Anne Fraser - Mistletoe, Midwife...Miracle Baby

‘Good. I want to check up on one of my patients, though. If you don’t mind, perhaps we can call in at the hospital on the way back? It’s sort of on our way.’

Alarm spiralled down Ellen’s spine. She didn’t want to go into the hospital. She most certainly didn’t want to go to the maternity ward. She simply wasn’t ready yet. She forced the panic away. She could stay in the car. He couldn’t make her go inside. She was getting het up over nothing.

‘If you give me a couple of minutes,’ she said, knowing she didn’t have the energy to argue with both Sean and her grandmother, ‘I’ll go and change into something warmer.’

‘So how long do you think you’ll be staying?’ Sean asked as they drove along the narrow roads made even narrower by the drifting snow piled up on either side. Her grandmother’s croft house was around ten miles from the city centre and all the major supermarkets. Although there was a village within walking distance, it only stocked the basics.

Ellen looked out of the window. She had no idea how long she was going to stay. She hadn’t thought that far. The need to come to her grandmother’s house had been overpowering and instinctive. She had asked for and been granted three months’ leave by the hospital where she worked. One day she’d have to decide what she was going to do, she certainly couldn’t live with her grandmother indefinitely, at least not without working, but every time she thought about going back to her empty flat in London and the midwifery unit, a sick feeling washed over her. Perhaps she could get a job in the village? In one of the shops maybe?

‘I’m not sure. A few weeks, maybe longer. I haven’t made up my mind.’

The look Sean shot her was full of curiosity. She didn’t want him to ask her any more questions, so she changed the subject. ‘How is your family?’

‘Mary and Louise moved to Ireland so my parents sold up and bought a house there. Patricia’s in Australia with her husband. My mother hates not being near my siblings, especially now that they have children of their own,’ Sean said. ‘She and my father go out to Australia for three months every winter—they’re there at the moment, in fact. My mother has six grandchildren now, so she’s blissfully happy.’

‘Gran told me that they’d moved to Ireland.’ Mary, Louise and Patricia were Sean’s sisters. Ellen wasn’t surprised his parents had followed their children to Ireland. The Jamiesons had always been a close family unit. The opposite from her family in every way possible. ‘It seems strange not to be going straight over to your mum’s house to say hello, like I always did.’

‘What about your mother?’ Sean asked. ‘I read articles by her in the British Medical Journal almost all the time. She has quite an international reputation. You must be proud of her.’

‘I am,’ Ellen said simply.

‘And she must be proud of you.’

Ellen smiled wryly. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. Mum wasn’t exactly happy when I told her I wanted to be a midwife. She thought my choice of career was second best and that with my grades I should be studying medicine. Now that would have made her proud.’

Sean sent her another sharp look. He wasn’t to know that it was her hero-worship of him that had given her the idea to pursue a career in maternity. She’d loved hearing his stories of drama in the maternity unit when he was a trainee. But it wasn’t hero worship that had kept her in the job. She knew she had found her vocation from the first moment she’d stepped onto the midwifery unit and, when she’d delivered her first baby, it had only strengthened that conviction. Now she didn’t know if she would ever be able to bring herself to return to the job she had once loved and she despised the weakness in herself.

‘If your mother knew you at all, she wouldn’t have wasted her breath trying to persuade you to change your mind. It was obvious to everyone, apart from her, that you were a determined kid.’ The smile on his face made Ellen wonder if he was remembering the time down by the river.

Before Ellen could think of a response to this, Sean’s phone rang and he pulled over to answer it. Forced to listen to his side of the conversation, it only took her a few moments to realise something was wrong.

‘I’ll be right there,’ Sean said, and disconnected. He turned to Ellen. ‘I’m sorry, but the trip to the shops is going to have to wait. That was the labour ward. They’ve had a call from one of our patients. She’s in labour but can’t get to the hospital. She lives in a croft house way off the beaten track and with the recent snow, the ambulance hasn’t a chance in hell of getting to the house.’ He rubbed a hand across his chin. ‘They’ve called in the RAF but they might not be able to get there in time. Besides, we’re closer and this vehicle can handle most conditions.’ While he was talking he had turned the car back in the direction they’d come. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to come along for the ride. Come to think of it, it’s good you’re here. I might need help.’

A bubble of panic rose in Ellen’s chest. He had no idea what he was asking of her. How could she tell him that there was no way she could help deliver his patient’s baby? She was barely holding it together as it was, how would she manage if she had to hold a baby in her arms? But what other option did she have?

She tucked her shaking hands under her thighs lest Sean notice. So this was it. Before she was ready and before she had a chance to prepare herself, she was going to have to deal with a baby.

There was no way she could refuse. Not when someone was in trouble.

‘Is this her first?’ she asked, pleased her voice didn’t betray her anxiety. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘Yes, it’s her first. She was due to be admitted for an elective section next week. Her baby is breech. We tried to turn it around at 37 weeks, but failed. Damn. Perhaps I should have insisted that she come in earlier but she was determined to stay at home for as long as possible. On top of that, her husband works on the oil rigs and hasn’t been able to get home because of the weather. To cap it all, she has an elderly mother with early Alzheimer’s and she didn’t want to leave her on her own for too long.’

Ellen felt a pang of sympathy. It seemed she wasn’t the only one whose life had been turned upside down. Maybe concentrating on someone else’s problems was just what she needed. Oh, God, please give her the strength to cope with the next few hours.

‘Can you ask the ward to patch us through to her? I could take some details over the phone while we’re driving.’ Ellen focussed her mind, trying to think ahead. A breech delivery could get complicated.

Sean did as she suggested, switching the phone to speaker, and within minutes a frightened voice came over the line.

‘Dr Jamieson. Thank goodness! The nurses on the ward said you were coming to help me. Are you near? When will you get to me?’

‘Marie, everything is going to be fine,’ Sean said calmly. ‘I hope to be with you in about ten minutes. I have a midwife in the car with me and she’s going to talk to you as we drive. You don’t know her but she’s very experienced. Her name is Ellen.’

‘Hello, Marie.’ Ellen took over the call. It was good that Sean had a speaker phone. This way she wouldn’t have to keep breaking off to update him and he could concentrate on navigating the icy roads. If anything, the snow had started to fall harder since they had left the house and visibility was down to a few metres. Ellen knew that they couldn’t rely on the RAF helicopter being able to put down any time soon. ‘Ellen here. I’m the midwife Sean was telling you about. Can you tell me how far apart your contractions are?’

‘No! I don’t know how to do that. All I know is that it hurts!’

‘Okay. Just listen to my voice. I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to do. Every time there is a big pain and it goes away look at your watch and count the minutes until the pain comes back. Can you do that?’

‘I’ll try.’ Marie’s voice rose as another contraction hit her. Ellen looked at her watch. ‘Tell me when it eases off, Marie, and I’ll count with you.’

Having something to concentrate on seemed to help Marie’s panic. It seemed that the contractions were four minutes apart. Not so good.

‘I’m just turning in at the end of the road to your croft, Marie,’ Sean said. ‘Hopefully I can make it down the track. If not, we’ll walk. One way or another we’ll be with you in a few minutes. You just keep counting those contractions for us.’

Sure enough, as soon as they pulled up at the gate of Marie’s croft it was obvious that there was no way even Sean’s four-by-four would make it down the snow-covered track.

Ellen thought of the high heels she was wearing. Not so great for trudging through waist-high snow.

Sean seemed to read her mind. ‘I have spare boots in the back. They may be a few sizes too big but if we have to walk they’ll keep your feet warm and dry.’

A few sizes too big was optimistic. Sean was tall.

‘Do we have anything with us?’ Ellen asked. ‘I’m assuming we might have to deliver the baby here.’ She chewed on her lip. ‘It’s some time since I had to do a home delivery.’

Sean’s answering smile was tight. ‘Me too. And the answer is no. I have some surgical gloves and a very basic medical kit with some morphine in the boot that I keep in case I’m called out to a rescue, but that’s it, I’m afraid. We’re just going to have to do the best we can.’

It took them five minutes to walk down the drive, every minute taking Ellen closer to the delivery.

They let themselves in the door, calling out as they shrugged off their jackets. After the freezing conditions outside the house was pleasantly warm.

‘I’m up here.’ Marie’s voice came from a room at the top of the stairs. Sean headed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, but Ellen had noticed a frail old lady in the kitchen. Judging by the look of fear on her face, Marie’s mother had no idea who they were or what they were doing there.

‘Are you Marie’s mum?’ Ellen asked.

‘Yes. But Marie’s at school. What are you doing in my house?’ Her voice gathered strength. ‘You must leave, or I will call the police.’

No wonder Marie was reluctant to leave her mother. The old lady was clearly very confused.

‘Why don’t you take a seat in the living room?’ Ellen suggested calmly. ‘My name’s Ellen and I’m a nurse. The man who went upstairs is Dr Sean Jamieson. Your daughter is going to have a baby and we’re here to help her. I need to go and see how she is but if you could stay down here and listen for the phone, that would be a big help.’

The old lady’s face cleared for a moment. ‘Yes. Of course, silly me. Marie is having a baby. My memory isn’t what it used to be, dear. Sometimes I get a bit mixed up.’

Ellen led her into the sitting room and switched the television on. Judging by the number of cushions on the chair in front of the set, and the side table laden with reading glasses and bottles of pills, this was a favourite place for the old lady. With a bit of luck the cookery programme would keep Marie’s mother distracted long enough for them to deliver the baby.

Upstairs Sean was examining Marie.

‘Nine centimetres dilated,’ he said. ‘Even if the RAF manages to land soon, and I very much doubt that they’ll even be able to take off in this weather, this baby isn’t going to wait.’ He smiled reassuringly at Marie. ‘Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ve delivered lots of breech births in my time and they’re all doing well.’