One Night With The Italian Doc. Kate Hardy
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believe we’re going to get our baby,’ Hannah said. ‘We tried for ages.’
‘I know that you did,’ Louise said.
‘I’m so lucky to have Anton,’ Hannah said. ‘He got me pregnant!’
Louise looked over at Luke and they shared a smile because at this stage of labour women said the strangest things at times, only Louise’s smile turned into a slight frown as Luke explained what she’d meant. ‘Anton was the one who put back the embryo …’
‘Oh!’ Louise said, more than a little surprised, because that was something she hadn’t known—yes, of course he would deal with infertility to a point, but it was a very specific specialty and for Anton to have performed the embryo transfer confused Louise.
‘He was a reproductive specialist in Milan, one of the top ones,’ Luke explained further, when he saw Louise’s frown. ‘We thought we were getting a fill-in doctor when Richard, the specialist overseeing Hannah’s treatment, got sick, but it turned out we were getting one of the best.’ He looked up as Anton came in. ‘I was just telling Louise that you were the one who got Hannah pregnant.’
Anton gave a small smile of acknowledgement of the conversation then he turned to Louise. ‘How is she?’
‘Very well.’
Anton gave another brief nod and went to examine Hannah.
Hannah was doing very well because things soon started to get busy and by four o’clock, just when Louise should be heading home to get ready for tonight, she was cheering Hannah on.
‘Are you okay, Louise?’ Brenda popped her head in to see if Louise wanted one of the late staff to come in and take over but instead Louise smiled and nodded. ‘I’m fine, Brenda,’ Louise said. ‘We’re nearly there.’
She would never leave so close to the end of a birth, Anton knew that, and she was enthusiastic at every birth, even if the mother was in Theatre, unconscious.
‘How much longer?’ Hannah begged.
‘Not long,’ Louise said. ‘Don’t push, just hold it now.’ Louise was holding Hannah’s leg and watched as the head came out and Anton carefully looped a rather thin and straggly umbilical cord from around the baby’s neck.
She and Anton actually worked well in this part. Anton liked how Louise got into it and encouraged the woman no end, urging her on when required, helping him to slow things down too, if that was the course of action needed. This was the case here, because the baby was only thirty-five weeks and also rather small for dates.
‘Oh, Hannah!’ Louise was ecstatic as the shoulders were delivered and Anton placed the slippery bundle on Hannah’s stomach and Louise rubbed the baby’s back. They all watched as he took his first breath and finally Hannah and Luke had their wish come true.
‘He’s beautiful,’ Hannah said, examining her son in awe, holding his tiny hand, scarcely able to believe she had a son.
He was small, even for thirty-five weeks, and, having delivered the placenta, Anton could well see why. The baby had certainly been delivered at the right time and could now get the nourishment he needed from his mother to fatten up.
Anton came and looked at the baby. The paediatrician was finishing up checking him over as Louise watched.
‘He looks good,’ Anton said.
‘So good,’ Louise agreed, and then smiled at the baby’s worried-looking face. He was wearing the concerned expression that a lot of small-for-dates babies had. ‘And so hungry!’
The paediatrician went to have a word with the parents to explain their baby’s care as Louise wrapped him up in a tight parcel and popped a little hat on him.
‘How does it feel,’ Louise asked Anton, ‘to have been there at conception and delivery?’ She started to laugh at her own question. ‘That sounds rude! You know what I mean.’
‘I was just saying to Hannah this morning that it has never happened to me before. So this little one is a bit more special,’ Anton admitted. ‘I’m going to go and write my notes. I’ll be back to check on Hannah in a while.’
‘Well, I’ll be going home soon,’ Louise said, ‘but I’ll pass it all on.’ She picked up the baby. ‘Come on, little man, let’s get you back to your mum.’
She didn’t rush home then either, though. Louise helped with the baby’s first feed, though he quickly tired and would need gavage top-ups. Having put him under a warmer beside his parents, she then went and made Hannah a massive mug of tea. Anton, who was getting a cup of tea of his own, watched as she went into her pocket and took out a teabag.
‘Why do you keep teabags in your pocket?’
‘Would you want that …’ she sneered at the hospital teabags on the bench ‘… if you’d just pushed a baby out?’
‘No.’
‘There’s your answer, then. I make sure my mums get one nice cup of tea after they’ve given birth and then they wonder their entire stay in hospital why the rest of them taste so terrible after that,’ Louise said. ‘It’s my service to women.’ She went back into her pocket and gave him a teabag and Anton took it because the hospital tea really was that bad. ‘Here, but that’s not the drink I owe you for this morning. You’ll get that later.’
He actually smiled at someone who wasn’t a patient. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ Louise said, and their eyes met, just for a second but Anton was the one who looked away, and with good reason.
Yes, Anton thought, she would see him tonight but here endeth the flirting.
LOUISE LIVED FAIRLY close to the hospital and arrived at her small terraced home just after five to a ringing phone.
She did consider not answering it because she was already running late but, seeing that it was her mum, Louise picked up.
‘I can’t talk for long,’ Louise warned, and then spent half an hour chatting about plans for Christmas Day.
‘Mum!’ Louise said, for the twentieth time. ‘I’m on days off after Christmas Eve all the way till after New Year. I’ve told you that I’ll be there for Christmas Day.’
‘You said you’d be there last year,’ Susan pointed out.
‘Can we not go through that again,’ Louise said, regretting the hurt she had caused last year by not telling her parents the truth about what had been going on in her life. ‘I was just trying to—’
‘Well, don’t ever do that again,’ Susan said. ‘I can’t bear that you chose to spend Christmas miserable and alone in some hotel rather than coming home to your family.’
‘You know why I did, Mum,’ Louise said, and then conceded, ‘But I know now that I should have just come home.’ She flicked the lights of her Christmas tree to on, smiling as she did so. ‘Mum, I honestly can’t wait for Christmas.’
‘Neither can I. I’ve ordered the turkey,’ Susan said, ‘and I’m going to try something extra-special for Boxing Day—kedgeree …’
‘Is that the thing with fish and eggs?’ Louise checked.
‘And curry powder,’ Susan agreed.
‘That’s great, Mum,’ Louise said, pulling a face because her mother was the worst cook in the world. The trouble was, though, that Susan considered herself an amazing cook! Louise ached for her dad sometimes, he was the kindest, most patient man, only that had proved part of the problem—the compliments he’d first given had gone straight to Susan’s head and, in the kitchen, she thought she could do no wrong. ‘Mum, I’d love to chat