Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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Harry. She was especially glad that she had held her ground when the day before she started her new job, Courtney had come down with a severe throat infection and asked if Bridgette could step in for a few days.
Bridgette’s interview with Rita had been long and rather difficult. Rita wasn’t at all keen to make exceptions. She would do her best to give Bridgette early shifts but, no, she couldn’t guarantee that was all she would get, and certainly, Rita said, she wanted all her staff to do regular stints on nights.
It all seemed a little impossible, but somehow Bridgette knew she had to make it work and get through things one day at a time—and today would be a good day, Bridgette decided as she entered the familiar unit, the smell and sound of babies in the air. This was where she belonged. She made herself a coffee to take into the long handover. Bridgette was hoping to be put into Labour and Delivery—she really wanted to immerse herself in a birth on her first day back.
‘You’re nice and early.’ Rita was sitting at the computer, all busy and efficient and preparing for the day. ‘Actually, that helps. It’s been a very busy night, a busy weekend apparently. I’ve got a nurse who has to leave at seven. She’s looking after a rather difficult case—would you mind taking handover from her and getting started?’
‘Of course.’ Bridgette was delighted. It often happened this way, and it would be lovely to get stuck into a labour on her first day back. She took a gulp of her coffee and tipped the rest down the sink, rinsed her cup and then headed off towards Labour and Delivery.
‘No, it’s room three where I want you to take over—twenty-four weeks with pre-eclampsia. They’re having trouble getting her blood pressure back down.’
Okay, so she wasn’t going to witness a birth this morning, but still, it was nice to be back using her midwifery brain. ‘Hi, there, Heather.’ She smiled at the familiar face. The room was quite crowded. Dr Hudson, the obstetrician, was there with the anaesthetist, and the anxious father was holding his wife’s hand. The woman’s face was flushed and she looked very drowsy. Thankfully, she was probably oblivious to all the activity going on.
‘It’s so good to see you.’ Heather motioned to head to the door and they stepped just a little outside. ‘I’ve got to get away at seven.’
‘Is that why it’s good to see me?’ Bridgette smiled.
‘No, it’s just good to see you back, good to have someone on the ball taking over as well. I’m worried about this one. Her name is Carla. She came up from Emergency yesterday evening.’ Heather gave Bridgette a detailed rundown, showing her all the drugs that had been used overnight in an attempt to bring Carla’s blood pressure down. ‘We thought we had it under control at four a.m., but at six it spiked again.’ Bridgette grimaced when she saw the figures. ‘Obviously, they were hoping for a few more days at the very least. She’s supposed to be having a more detailed scan this morning. They were estimating twenty-four weeks and three days.’ That was very early. Every day spent in the womb at this stage was precious and vital and would increase the baby’s chance of survival.
The parents wanted active treatment and the mother had been given steroids yesterday to mature the baby’s lungs in case of premature delivery, but even so, to deliver at this stage would be dire indeed. ‘She’s just been given an epidural,’ Heather explained, ‘and they’re fiddling with her medications through that as well. They’re doing everything they can to get her blood pressure down.’ It just didn’t seem to be working, though. The only true cure for pre-eclampsia was delivery. Carla’s vital signs meant that her life was in danger. She was at risk of a stroke or seizures and a whole host of complications if she didn’t stabilise soon—even death. ‘They were just talking about transferring her over to Intensive Care, but I think Dr Hudson now wants to go ahead and deliver. The paediatrician was just in…he’s warned them what to expect, but at that stage we were still hoping for a couple more days, even to get her to twenty-five weeks.’
It wasn’t going to happen.
‘I hate leaving her…’
‘I know,’ Bridgette said.
‘Dillan starts at a new school today.’ Bridgette knew Heather’s son had had trouble with bullying and it sounded as if today was a whole new start for him too. ‘Or I wouldn’t dash off.’
‘You need to get home.’
The monitors were beeping and Heather and Bridgette walked back in.
‘Carla…’ Heather roused the dozing woman. ‘This is Bridgette. She’s going to be taking care of you today, and I’ll be back to take care of you tonight.’
The alarms were really going off now. The appalling numbers that the monitors were showing meant the difficult decision would have to be made. Bridgette knew that Heather was torn. She’d been with Carla all night and at any moment now Carla was going to be rushed over to Theatre for an emergency Caesarean. ‘Go,’ Bridgette mouthed, because if Heather didn’t leave soon, she would surely end up staying, and Dillan needed his mum today.
‘Let Theatre know we’re coming over,’ Dr Hudson said to Bridgette, ‘and we need the crash team from NICU. I’ll tell the parents.’
Bridgette dashed out and informed Rita, the smooth wheels of the emergency routine snapping into place. Five minutes to seven on a Monday was not the best time. Staff were leaving, staff were starting, the weekend team was exhausted, the corridors busy as they moved the bed over to the maternity theatres.
‘Okay.’ Bridgette smiled at the terrified father, whom Dr Hudson had agreed could be present for the birth. ‘Here’s where you get changed.’ She gave him some scrubs, a hat and some covers for his shoes. ‘I’m going to go and get changed too and then I’ll come back for you and take you in.’
Really, her presence at this birth was somewhat supernumerary. For a normal Caesarean section she would be receiving the baby; however, the NICU team was arriving and setting up, preparing their equipment for this very tiny baby, so Bridgette concentrated on the parents. Frank, the husband, wanted to film the birth, and Bridgette helped him to work out where to stand so that he wouldn’t get in the way. She understood his need to document every minute of this little baby’s life.
‘It’s all happening so fast…’ Carla, though groggy, was clearly terrified, because now that the decision had been made, things were moving along with haste.
‘We’re just making sure we’ve got everything ready for your baby,’ Bridgette explained as Dr Hudson came in. The anaesthetist had topped up the epidural and the operation would soon be starting.
‘We’re just waiting on…’ Kelly, one of NICU team called out, when asked if they were ready, and then her voice trailed off. ‘No problem. Dr Mansfield is here.’
Bridgette looked up and straight into those familiar black eyes, eyes that she stared at each day on her computer, except they didn’t smile back at her now. She tore her gaze away from him and back to her patient. She completely halted her thoughts, gave all her attention to her patient, because the operation had started, the incision made at seven-eighteen, and just a few moments later a tiny baby was delivered.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Bridgette told Carla. ‘She’s moving.’ She was, her red, spindly limbs flailing with indignation at her premature entry to the world.
‘She’s not crying,’ Jenny said.
‘She is.’ There was a very feeble cry and her face was grimacing. Frank was standing back, filming their tiny daughter. Bridgette watched the activity and for the first time she took a proper look at Dominic.
He needed to shave, his face was grim with concentration and he looked exhausted. Bridgette remembered Rita saying that it had been a very busy weekend, and this emergency had come right at the tail end of his on-call shift.
‘Can I see her?’ Carla asked, but already the team was moving the baby and she was whisked past. Carla got only a very brief glimpse.
‘They’re taking