Marion Lennox - The Baby They Longed For

‘I need...a scan,’ Addie breathed as they wheeled her along the veranda.

‘I’m onto it,’ he told her. He touched her face, lightly, in an attempt at reassurance. ‘Addie, let me do the worrying. You know I’m a surgeon. I might not know as much as you do about pregnancy complications but I know enough to cope with this. Trust me?’

‘I... Yes.’ And she caught his hand. For a moment he thought it was to push it away but instead it turned into a death grip as more pain hit. ‘I don’t...have a choice.’

She didn’t. It was, indeed, an ectopic pregnancy.

A scan showed an embryo growing in the right fallopian tube rather than the womb. Such pregnancies were doomed from the start, and internal bleeding was now threatening her life.

He didn’t have to explain it to Addie. She watched the screen with him, her face racked with distress. Pain relief was kicking in. The nurses were prepped, the theatre was ready but they were waiting for the anaesthetist. Apparently he was on his way, pulled from his son’s football game.

‘I wanted this baby so much,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Noah... I have endometriosis. Scarring. If the other tube’s damaged...’

She’d know the odds. Rupture meant an increased risk of future infertility, and if she already suffered from endometriosis the odds were even worse. It was a hard call, treating a doctor, Noah thought. It was impossible to reassure her when she knew the facts.

She’d also know that he was a second-best doctor right now. What she needed was a specialist obstetrician, and the hospital had only one. Addie.

But if Noah hadn’t decided to come a couple of days early there wouldn’t be any surgeon within an hour’s reach. For the first time Noah was hit with the drama of country medical practice. Him or no one.

‘Please...’ Addie was weeping in her distress. Once more her hand caught his. ‘I know I’ve lost my baby but I can’t...please, I can’t be infertile.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ he said gently. ‘Addie, you know I can make no promises.’ He was administering pre-meds, willing the unknown anaesthetist to hurry.

‘You can repair the tube.’ Her voice was blurred from the drugs and pain and shock. ‘You must. Please.’

He knew he couldn’t. So must she if she was thinking straight. If they’d caught things before the rupture then maybe but now...

‘Addie, you know...’

‘I do,’ she whispered. ‘But please... I’m sorry I slapped you.’

And that made him smile. Of all things to be thinking... ‘If I’d been you that day, I might have slapped me, too.’

‘It should have been Gav.’ She took a deep breath, fighting for strength, but there was still spirit. ‘To let me get to the church... Toe rags, both of you.’

‘We were indeed toe rags,’ he said gravely. ‘Addie, is there anyone we should be contacting? You need some support. Your mum?’ He hesitated. ‘The baby’s father?’

‘No.’ It was a harsh snap.

He wanted to stop but he had to know. Addie was suffering internal bleeding. Where the hell was the anaesthetist? If they didn’t get in soon... ‘Addie, we need next of kin at least.’

‘Next of kin’s this baby.’

‘Addie...’

‘There’s no one,’ she snapped. ‘Mum died three years ago. Gav’s mother doesn’t speak to me, and Gav’s long gone. And this baby’s father is a number from a sperm bank. So if I die on the operating table feel free to donate everything to the local cats’ home. But, oh, Noah...’ Her voice shattered on a sob and her grip on his hand tightened. He was no friend but he knew her from the past and it seemed that right now he was all she had.

‘You will... The tubes... You will try.’

‘I will.’

‘Despite the slap.’

‘Maybe even a little because of the slap,’ he said ruefully. ‘You were treated appallingly that day.’

And then he looked up as a redheaded beanpole burst through the door.

‘Hey,’ the beanpole said, heading for Noah and holding out his hand in greeting. ‘You’ll be our new surgeon. Noah? I’m Cliff Brooks, anaesthetist.’ He grasped Noah’s hand and then turned his attention to the patient. And stilled in shock. ‘What the...? Addie!’

‘It’s ectopic,’ Addie said weakly. ‘I’m... I was... Oh, Cliff, it’s ectopic.’

‘Bugger,’ Cliff said, and then added a couple more expletives for good measure. ‘We didn’t even know... I’m so sorry, love.’ He then proceeded to be entirely unprofessional by stooping and giving Addie a hug.

‘Hell, Ad, this is the pits but don’t worry. I’ll be watching our new surgeon every step of the way. Let’s get you into Theatre and get things cleared. And if you want to be pregnant... This’ll just be a blip. Maryanne had two miscarriages before she had Michael, and now we have four boys. Hiccups are what happens when you start a family. Don’t cry, love, don’t cry.’

So he hugged and Noah turned away and headed for the sinks. He felt like he’d felt on Addie’s wedding day. Helpless. And...he had no right to comfort her, so why did it seem so wrong that it wasn’t him who did the hugging?

* * *

An ectopic pregnancy was always a grief. Growing in the fallopian tubes instead of in the womb, there was no chance a baby could survive. Someday someone might figure a way such a pregnancy could be transplanted to the womb, Noah thought, but that day was a long way off.

By the time of the rupture, the embryo was lifeless. The pressure was on to save the mother. Preserving fertility had to come second. When a woman had a complete family and there was no need to try and make future pregnancies viable, the surgery was much simpler but now... Noah was calling on skills he barely had.

Cliff was good. Noah had checked out the credentials of his anaesthetist before taking on the job, but he’d never worked with him. The fact that he was personally involved could have been a worry, but from the moment he’d released Addie from the hug Cliff had turned pure professional.

‘You focus on your end. Leave everything else to me,’ Cliff growled, and at least Noah could stop thinking about blood pressure, about the logistics of keeping a haemorrhaging patient alive, and focus purely on the technical.

Except he couldn’t quite, because this was Addie.

Separation of personal to professional...how hard was that? He’d glanced at Cliff as Addie had slipped under, and he’d seen grimness in the man’s expression. He wasn’t the only one caught in personal distress for the woman they were operating on.

But why did he feel like this?

In truth he’d only had a working relationship, with Gavin as well as Addie. He’d been Gavin’s boss but he’d been surprised to be asked to be best man. Gavin had obviously kept his life compartmentalised. Work, home and stuff-that-no-one-was-to-know-about. Until after the wedding fiasco when the hospital grapevine had practically exploded.

Addie had kept to herself, too, but where Gavin’s lesser-known compartment had turned out to be spectacular, Addie’s seemed anything but. The grapevine said that she worked and she looked after her mother. At the hospital she and Noah had occasionally operated or consulted together, but he’d thought her quiet, almost mousy. Technically skilled. Conscientious. Nothing special.

He’d operated on colleagues before, men and women he’d known far better than this. So now...why was it so hard to block out the thought of Addie’s distress, the sight of her face, bleached by fear and shock?

He had to block it out. Her life depended on it.

The first part of the surgery was straightforward. An incision, finding the source of the bleeding, removing the unviable pregnancy. There was inflammation around it, and bleeding from the rupture.