Page 51 of Sharing Forever in Hope Creek (Hope Creek #2)

Jack! My waters have broken!

Callie had made the announcement to Jack a week past her due date.

Twenty-four long hours ago they’d driven excitedly together to the private hospital section of the Royal Women’s Hospital in Melbourne anticipating their child’s imminent and grand entry.

Since then, the first stage of labour had been slow.

Callie’s cervix was dilating, but she was only having mild contractions.

Jack was a helpless bystander, waiting and listening to the reassuringly steady heartbeat of their child on the monitor and watching regular ultrasounds undertaken by the midwife to ensure all was well and that emergency intervention was not required.

Callie twisted the gold wedding band on her left finger and smiled up at Jack. ‘Hey, handsome husband of mine, sorry it’s taking so long.’

Jack caught her hands in his and raised them to his lips. ‘I wonder if this is a sign of things to come? If we’re always going to have to tell this little one of ours to hurry up!’ Then he joked, ‘We’re definitely having a girl.’

Callie laughed. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I arrived at the town hall before you did and Jim drove around the block twice so you’d be there before me! Didn’t you know a bride is supposed to be the one to keep her groom waiting?’

‘You know very well there was a reason I was delayed.’ He and Mitch had needed to stop to help Bob Lynch herd cattle that had broken free from one of the Lynch’s paddocks.

Then, when they’d arrived, there’d been no parking close by because—despite having thought they were having a small family wedding ceremony—Blue had inadvertently let slip what was happening to Bill, then the whole community had taken it upon themselves to bear witness to the event and Mitch had ended up having to park six blocks away from the town hall.

‘Hi, Callie. Jack.’ The obstetrician, Dr Golding, a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense manner, approached the bed and began looking at Callie’s observation charts. ‘How are you holding up, Callie?’

‘I’m okay but I’m getting anxious to meet our baby.’

The doctor nodded. ‘Because your waters broke twenty-four hours ago, I’m going to give you some intravenous antibiotics to prevent an infection that can affect babies.

Your contractions aren’t getting any stronger so I’m also going to give you oxytocin to strengthen them.

If you have the baby in the next two hours, the baby will also have a precautionary lot of antibiotics at birth. ’

‘Another two hours?’ Jack was pleased to hear things were going to start moving but another couple of hours was still a wait.

The doctor sent him an understanding but slightly amused look.

‘I hate to tell you this, Jack, but after the oxytocin is given, it doesn’t mean labour will begin soon after.

It depends on how Callie’s body reacts to the drug, but at least I know from my earlier examination that her cervix is soft enough and doesn’t need to be primed. ’

The doctor went on to outline the risks of oxytocin and Jack broke out into a cold sweat when he heard the words ‘painful contractions’, ‘risk of uterine rupture’ and ‘haemorrhage’.

‘You shouldn’t worry overly because we will be monitoring your health and your baby’s the whole time, Callie,’ Dr Golding said.

Privately, Jack was scared witless. He held Callie’s hand and wondered how anything as natural as childbirth could be so damned complicated. A hundred doubts filtered through his mind while the doctor injected the oxytocin, and he prayed to God that Callie and their baby would be fine.

Time ticked by.

Callie dozed for a while before her eyes flew open at the same time as her body jerked upright and she gasped in pain.

‘Nurse!’ Jack called, but the midwife was right there.

She looked at all the monitors then did a visual inspection of the cervix.

‘It’s good news. Your cervix is fully dilated now and you’re having your first strong contraction.

’ Then she placed her hands on Callie’s abdomen and felt around.

The smile she sent them both was reassuring.

‘You’re in your second stage of labour. I’ll let the doctor know that the baby is in the birth canal.

You can start pushing now through each contraction. ’

It sounded simple but Jack’s relief was short-lived as he observed the effort that went into pushing through each contraction.

For the next hour, he sat in the delivery suite, holding Callie’s hand in one of his while he mopped her brow with the other and felt utterly helpless as he watched Callie struggle through pain that was so intense her features distorted.

He knew he had to be strong for her—had to give the impression that everything was fine—but inside he was experiencing greater anxiety than he’d ever known.

It was taking too long.

Something had to be wrong.

Jack worried that the baby was too large or Callie’s pelvis was too small.

‘Shouldn’t the doctor be here?’ he asked the midwife for the fifth time.

‘I’ll call Dr Golding as soon as it’s necessary,’ the nurse told him.

Through tears of exhaustion Callie whimpered, ‘I don’t think I can do this much longer, Jack.’

‘I love you, darling,’ he said over the low hum of the medical machinery and the steady beeping of the monitors. ‘You’re strong. You’ve got this.’

But he vowed silently that he’d be having a damned vasectomy after this, because he was never going to put her through this trauma again.

It was hard to keep a calm facade. All these hours she’d fought with determination to bring their child into the world but he could see she was weakening—knew her body was exhausted and sensed her mind was starting to fog.

And, as much as the midwife assured him that it wasn’t unusual for a first labour to be this long, from what he’d read, twelve to twenty-four hours labour was typical for a first child. Time was up as far as he was concerned.

What the bloody hell is the doctor thinking to allow this to go on for so long? Even though Callie say she wants a natural delivery, surely it is time to have a C-section?

‘I’ll be back in a second.’

The second the midwife uttered the words, Jack tensed.

Less than a minute later she came back with the doctor and after a brief examination, Dr Golding announced, ‘The baby’s head is down but it’s turned and it’s facing your front. This makes it harder for it to move through your pelvis so I’m going to try to rotate the baby into the correct position.’

Shit.

Jack wanted to ask what would happen if she couldn’t rotate the baby, but he bit down on the words and tried instead to erase any worry from his features and to send Callie an encouraging smile.

He held his breath as the doctor did what she had to do then pronounced, ‘All good. It won’t be long now.’

Callie gasped as another contraction ripped through her body and both doctor and midwife said, ‘Push hard.’

Jack told his beautiful wife, ‘Breathe, darling,’ and resumed the breathing patterns they’d learned together in prenatal classes.

‘The head’s crowning!’

He couldn’t help himself. Jack couldn’t hold back his tears as Callie started to sob through her contraction.

‘A couple more pushes and we’ll be there, Callie,’ the doctor urged.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a baby’s fierce howl pierced the air.

‘You have a son!’ the midwife announced.

Barely aware of the tears streaming down his face, Jack took in the tiny naked bundle with a shock of dark hair and felt awash with love for the son who had terrified him so much.

‘You did it, darling! We have a boy.’ He barely managed to squeeze the words out because his whole throat was clogged with happiness.

‘Here, Callie.’

The midwife placed the baby gently on Callie’s chest, and despite her exhaustion she looked down at their son through tear-filled eyes. Her voice was tremulous as she whispered, ‘Hi, Rory.’

‘You can put him to your breast straight away. It’ll help the contractions so the placenta is expelled,’ the midwife said.

Jack had never experienced a more beautifully moving moment as when his son took Callie’s nipple into his tiny rosebud mouth.

Mother and child.

His wife and their child.

He’d never have believed that he’d experience this profound connection so instantly.

‘Would you like to cut the cord?’ Dr Golding asked Jack.

As soon as he attended to the task, Jack placed his hand on their son’s back and felt each rise and fall of his breath.

God, but it was overwhelming. He leaned forward to push the damp hair from Callie’s forehead and then placed a kiss on her cheek.

‘Congratulations, darling. You’ve done brilliantly. ’

‘I can’t believe he’s finally here,’ she said with a smile.

They stayed in a bubble of bliss for about ten minutes despite Callie needing to push through a few more contractions.

‘Callie, next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can,’ Dr Golding instructed.

Jack looked at the midwife and saw that her warm, reassuring gaze had grown serious. A strange tension filled the air and although he was afraid of the answer he asked, ‘Is everything okay?’

‘The placenta hasn’t been delivered,’ the doctor explained. ‘If we don’t get it out with one more push, I may have to give her another shot of oxytocin.’

Jack’s joy turned to worry as Callie pushed through another contraction and he saw the doctor shake her head to the midwife and reach for a syringe. ‘I’m going to give you another injection.’

Callie nodded weakly and Jack saw that even through her elation at the arrival of their son she was totally drained. He murmured words of encouragement but his heart pounded so hard against his ribcage he was surprised everyone in the room couldn’t feel the reverberation of each beat.

Jack frowned as Callie’s face contorted with pain. He wasn’t sure whether it was another contraction or pain from the injection, but he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as the doctor and midwife began to apply gentle pressure to help her body expel the placenta.

When the midwife gave a cautious pull at the cord the tissue tore, the doctor swore and Callie let out a sharp gasp.

The midwife whispered an apology, her hands resuming their work.

‘You’re doing amazingly well, Callie,’ Jack whispered. But it wasn’t the truth. She’d paled, her breathing was shallow and her eyes were becoming unfocused. ‘Doctor!’

‘Doctor!’ the midwife said at exactly the same time.

The doctor raced to the wall and hit a red button.

Jack felt pain lance through his heart as he saw blood gushing out of Callie and pooling on the floor.

Everything happened fast then.

The room was filled with medical personnel. The midwife took Rory from Callie’s chest and everyone rushed to disconnect monitors and wheel Callie’s bed out of the room.

‘Callie has a postpartum haemorrhage,’ Dr Golding was saying. ‘She needs immediate surgery to remove the placenta or any blood clots or membranes remaining in her uterus.’ She squeezed Jack’s arm. ‘I have to go.’

Jack stood stock still, barely able to process what was happening.

‘Mr Marshall, sit down,’ someone told him.

He didn’t sit himself, it was more that he was led to a chair and made to sit.

The midwife who’d attended Callie sat down next to him. ‘Dr Golding is the best obstetrician in Melbourne, Jack. Callie is in safe hands.’

‘Callie,’ he whispered. They loved each other so deeply—had faced and overcome so much together—he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her now.

‘While Callie is getting the attention she needs, there’s someone else who needs your attention now.’

Jack started to cry before he pulled himself together.

‘Would you like to cuddle your son?’ the midwife asked.

All he could do was nod, because he had no voice.

Taking his son carefully from the midwife, he held him close to his chest and kissed the top of his head, knowing Rory’s little features were perfect even though he couldn’t see them properly now through his tear-blurred vision.

‘She’ll be okay,’ the nurse told him as some other staff came into the room and started cleaning up. ‘She’s strong and she’s got you and Rory to live for.’

It slammed into him again that this post-partum haemorrhaging was life threatening.

‘Could you find Margaret and Jim Robinson—Callie’s parents—please? They’ve been waiting for news for the last several hours in the relatives’ room.’ He needed to let them know and he needed their support.

‘Absolutely.’ Then she asked, ‘How about I clean Rory up a bit first so he’s fit to meet his grandparents?’

Even though he was reticent to part with Rory, Jack handed him over to the nurse. It wouldn’t matter a jot to the Richardsons whether Rory was cleaned up or not, but he thought it might be more comfortable for his son.

Mitch had been right, he realised. Jack was already feeling protective of Rory and thinking about his needs.

The nurse was right as well. Callie was strong and she was in the best of hands.

She’d get through this. Both of them would get through it because not only did they have each other—they had their son.