Marion Lennox - The Baby They Longed For

Except now she wouldn’t need them. Her hands fell to her tummy, to the wad of dressing where a tiny bump had been before, and she felt her eyes fill with tears.

She wouldn’t cry. She never cried, not when Gavin had jilted her, not when her mum had died, not ever.

Oh, but her baby...

‘Can I come in?’ It was a light tap and Noah McPherson was at the door.

Of all the people to see her cry... Noah. She swiped the tears from her face and fought for dignity. The surge of anger she’d felt as she’d emerged from the anaesthetic had faded. It wasn’t his fault Gavin had jilted her. It wasn’t his fault she’d lost her baby.

He was a doctor, nothing more.

A doctor she’d hit. On top of everything else she was now cringing with remembered humiliation.

‘Of course,’ she managed. The junior nurse who’d been sitting beside her looked a query at Noah and then slipped away, leaving her alone with a man...who’d saved her life?

A man she’d hit.

‘They tell me...you did a good job,’ she said, struggling to find words. ‘The best you could.’

‘Addie, I’m so sorry you’ve lost your baby.’

He didn’t need to be sympathetic. She didn’t want him to be sympathetic.

She wanted her mum. Anyone. No one.

Not Noah.

‘It’s okay.’

‘I’m very sure it’s not,’ he said gently. ‘I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. Can I sit down?’

‘I... Of course.’ What else was there to say?

He sat on the chair the nurse had just vacated. For a moment she thought he was intending to reach out and take her hand and she hauled it under the covers pre-emptively. She saw him wince.

‘I need to talk to you as your doctor,’ he told her. ‘That’s all. Can you stand it?’

‘Of...of course I can.’

He nodded, gravely. ‘There’s not a lot of good news but there is some. Addie...your baby... You know it was tragic chance that she started developing in the fallopian tube.’

‘She?’ she whispered. Her baby...

‘That’s an assumption,’ he said gravely. ‘I thought you said her. Am I right?’

‘I did...think of her as a girl,’ she said grudgingly, and her hands felt the dressing again. ‘I... I know it’s dumb but I was already thinking... Rose for my grandmother? But that’s crazy.’

‘It’s not crazy at all,’ he said gently. ‘Rose. That’s who she was. She was real, a baby who sadly started growing where she had no chance of survival.’

She could hardly speak. She . Her baby . He’d even said her name, a name that she’d almost felt silly for dreaming of. And for some reason it helped. For the last few weeks, filled with wonder and anticipation, she’d been talking to the tiny bump she could scarcely feel. And, yes, she knew she was a girl. At some primeval level...

Or was that because she had so little knowledge of boys? Her family had always been women. Well, two women, herself and her mum.

So many emotions... She wasn’t thinking straight. The anaesthetic was still making its effects felt. She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

‘Addie...’

‘Mmm...’ She wanted to be left alone, in her cocoon of grief. Life felt...barren. She wanted... She wanted...

‘Addie, let’s talk practicalities,’ Noah said, strongly now, and regardless of what she wanted he reached out and took her hand. He held it strongly, a warm, firm hold, the reassurance of one human being touching another. She didn’t want it but, oh...she needed it. She should pull away but she didn’t. Practicalities? Something solid?

Something solid like Noah, she thought, and his hand...helped.

‘We might be able to preserve your embryo for burial if that’s what you wish,’ Noah told her. ‘It’ll need to go to Pathology but after that... There might be something. If you wish.’

‘I...’ It was something. Something to hold to. The remnants of her dream? A place to mourn? ‘I do wish.’

‘Then I’ll try to make it happen. No promises but I’ll do my best. For now, though, Addie, can we talk through the results of the surgery? Or do you want to leave it until later?’

‘Now.’ It was scarcely a whisper. How hard was this?

‘Then I need to tell you that I had to remove the entire tube,’ he told her, in that gentle but professional voice that was somehow what she needed. ‘It was ruptured, and even if I’d managed to suture it, chances are there’d be microscopic embryonic tissue I couldn’t remove, tissue that might cause even more problems in the future. So that’s grim news. But, Addie, I checked the other tube and it’s perfect. Perfect, Addie.’

‘It doesn’t mean...’ She stopped. Her words had been a whisper and they faded out, but he knew what she’d been about to say.

‘It doesn’t mean future pregnancies are assured,’ he finished for her. ‘We both know that. But it does mean future pregnancies are possible. More than possible. You need to give yourself a couple of months to let your body heal, and let yourself heal, too, but then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t try again.’

He saw her face close in pain. This was one of the hardest conversations...talking about a future pregnancy when she’d barely started her grieving over this one. But this was his job, laying out the facts. The facts needed to be implanted, to be there when she needed them.

‘You’re an obstetrician,’ he said gently. ‘You know the odds better than I do, but for now you don’t need to think of them. Put them away for later. For now, just focus on you, on what you need, and on your grief for your tiny daughter.’

‘You sound like you think she was real?’

‘Isn’t she real, Addie? Your Rose?’

He watched her face. This was the hardest part, he thought.

He remembered past lectures, dry as dust, the technicalities of surgical removal of ectopic pregnancies. But he’d sat in the lectures and looked at the diagrams of the baby developing in the fallopian tubes and he’d thought...it involved a death. A loss. A grief. No matter what happened to cause the end of a pregnancy, there must still be grief. He’d understood it then, he’d had it enforced later from harsh, brutal experience and now, watching Addie’s face, he knew it even more strongly.

‘She was...my daughter,’ she whispered. ‘For such a short time.’

‘And she was loved,’ he said gently. ‘And she’ll always be a part of you. But for now...’ The look of strain on her face was almost unbearable. ‘You need to sleep. Do what your body tells you, Addie. The nurse will be coming back. If you need anything more, I’m within calling distance.’

‘I... I know,’ she muttered. ‘Oh, Noah... I slapped you.’

‘You’re welcome to slap me again if it helps,’ he told her, and smiled. ‘Anything you want, just not as long as it stops you sleeping.’ And then he paused. Someone had knocked on the ward door. A head poked around, Henry, the hospital administrator, his face puckered in concern. Things must be pretty bad to haul him from his golf, Noah thought, but as he surged into the room he remembered the distress on the faces of the theatre staff and he knew that Addie was indeed loved.

It made him feel better—sort of—but it also made him feel...bleak.

Why? He wasn’t sure. But Henry was stooping to give Addie a careful kiss and the feeling of bleakness intensified.

‘I’ll leave you to Henry,’ he managed. ‘No more than five minutes, though, Henry, and the nurse needs to return before you leave. Addie needs to sleep.’

‘She needs to sleep for months,’ Henry said roundly. ‘We’ve been telling her and telling her. Long weekends, that’s all she’ll ever take. Cliff rang me and I was never more shocked. Yes, I know it’s hard to get staff to cover but, Addie, you now have no choice. We’re running you out of town. Dr McPherson’s shown he’s more than capable of dealing with obstetric drama and we’ll put in a call for an emergency locum to cover for you. You’re heading to Sydney or wherever you want, maybe the Gold Coast, maybe further north, the Great Barrier Reef, somewhere you can lie in the sun for a couple of months and let your body recover.’