Four Weddings: A Woman To Belong To / A Wedding in Warragurra / The Surgeon's Chosen Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Marriage Proposal. Fiona LoweЧитать онлайн книгу.
but sounded Australian. She glanced between husband and wife.
The man caught Bec’s gaze. ‘Oh, thank goodness, you’re Australian!’ The husband’s voice trembled. ‘She insisted on coming to this temple, even though I didn’t want her to. It’s our third baby and now …’
The woman moaned again, her fingernails cutting into Bec’s arm.
‘I’m Bec Monahan and I think we need to get your wife onto a bed so I can examine her.’
‘I’m Mark and my wife is Melissa, and the baby isn’t due for another three weeks.’ His voice rose with worry. ‘I’m working for Glaston International and we’re living in Ho Chi Minh City. We’ve arranged for the delivery to be in the French hospital there, not up here in the middle of nowhere.’ He spoke like a CEO. A man used to being in charge, having his orders obeyed and sticking to a plan. He seemed completely bewildered by the deviation.
Two young nuns ran up on hearing the noise and showed the way to a room. Mark swung Melissa into his arms and carried her there, gently lowering her onto the bed.
Bec spoke to the nuns. ‘Bác s
They nodded and ran off to find Tom. Bec hauled out a pair of gloves from her bag. When she’d packed them she’d been thinking they’d be used for doing first aid or the washing-up, not delivering a baby. ‘Melissa, I just want to see how far away you are from having this baby.’
She sucked in her lips and sent up a quick prayer that Melissa was just scared and overreacting to some early contractions. But the fact that this was her third pregnancy, combined with a lot of groaning, had Bec worried.
‘At least in this heat my hands are warm,’ Bec quipped, trying to lighten the tension. Using her hands, she examined the lie of the baby by palpating Melissa’s abdomen. Limbs seemed to be everywhere. She pressed down on top of the uterus, feeling for the baby’s bottom. It felt unusually hard.
She felt again, her fingers transmitting the unwanted information. ‘Melissa, has your doctor mentioned anything about the baby’s position?’
The woman shook her head and grunted.
Grunting wasn’t good. ‘I’m going to do an internal examination now.’ Bec gently inserted two fingers, feeling for the cervix, but she could only detect a lip and bulging forewaters. She couldn’t feel past the bulge to the presenting part. Damn. A fully dilated cervix ruled out getting back to Hué hospital to have the baby.
Not to worry. Babies basically delivered themselves. Melissa and Mark would have a surprise to take home to the family from their outing to the temple.
Melissa grunted as a strong contraction gripped her. Liquid gushed from her vagina.
Bec immediately removed her hand. A black substance stuck to the end of her gloved fingers. Meconium.
Bec’s heart beat faster. ‘I’m sorry, Melissa, I just have to go back one more time to feel the baby’s position.’ Her brain already knew but she needed to feel the presenting part to kick her disbelief out the door.
As her fingers reached she prayed to feel the hard, bony skull of the baby. Her fingers made contact. Soft.
Bec took in a deep breath and felt again. Soft and yielding.
No. She sent up a prayer of help to whoever was out there and listening. They were facing an obstetric emergency and about to deliver a breech baby with no equipment.
‘What’s happening?’ Tom’s cheerful voice reverberated around the room.
Bec glanced around over her shoulder. ‘We’re about to deliver a breech. Ask the nuns to boil water and bring towels.’
Tom stood perfectly still for a moment, his eyes glued to her face. His expression reflected all her emotions—fear, professionalism and relief they could back each other up.
‘Breech! But isn’t that bottom first?’ Mark’s anxiety morphed into terror.
Tom put his hand on the other man’s shoulders. ‘It is. But in an unlucky situation you have the fortune to have a midwife and a doctor here today. I’m Tom and I’m a doctor. You go and hold your wife’s hand and leave the rest to Bec and me.’
Bec was certain his words indicated more control than either of them felt.
Tom hauled open his medical kit, passed a pair of scissors to one of the nuns and asked for them to be boiled. He asked the other nuns to stay. Then he stepped up to Bec, standing very close, his breath stroking her cheek. He spoke softly so only she could hear. ‘How long since you delivered a breech?’
‘About a year ago. You?’
He shook his head. ‘Not since I was a student. You lead, I’ll follow.’
He squeezed her shoulder, his confidence trailing through her, reducing her misgivings.
‘Melissa.’ She touched the woman’s shoulder and fixed her gaze on the woman’s fear-dilated eyes. ‘I need you to listen really carefully. Your baby is coming and it’s bottom first. Together we can deliver this impatient imp but you must do what I say, when I say. We’re going to need patience and co-operation.’
Melissa nodded, her eyes huge. ‘I can do that.’
‘Great. First we’re going to swing you around so you’re lying across the bed. Mark and Tom will have to hold one of your legs each.’
They helped position Melissa so her bottom was on the edge of the bed. One of the nuns sat behind Melissa, cradling her head and supporting her during contractions.
Mark held Melissa’s hand, his face pale and dripping with sweat.
‘I … want … to … push.’ Melissa grunted.
‘Go for it.’ Bec watched, fingers crossed, hoping the buttocks would deliver with the back uppermost. A swollen scrotum announced the birth of a boy.
It was too early to celebrate.
She gently put her fingers into the vagina. ‘His legs are flexed.’ Bec spoke out loud, keeping Tom in the picture.
‘Pressure behind the knees.’
Tom’s quietly spoken words mirrored her thoughts. She gently applied pressure and splinted a leg with her fingers, to draw it down.
‘Warm cloths, I need warm cloths.’ It seemed outrageous to be demanding warm cloths in the stifling heat but a cold breech could send the cord into spasm and cut off the baby’s oxygen supply.
The baby’s legs and trunk were delivered and Bec gently held the baby at the hips, keeping his spine uppermost at all times to allow the head to enter the pelvis in the correct position. Please, don’t get stuck.
‘You’re doing so well, Melissa.’ Bec tried to infuse her words with a sense of calm that she didn’t feel. She gently looped some cord down to prevent compression.
She rotated the baby’s back from one side to the other to encourage the arms to gather in a flexed position across the chest as she delivered the shoulders.
‘Lovsett manoeuvre—well done.’ Tom left his post for a moment and draped the baby in warm cloths. ‘I’ve checked the foetal heart by counting the cord pulsations. He’s doing OK.’
Melissa swallowed hard and glanced at Mark. ‘It will be OK because we’re here at this place.’
Bec’s heart stalled at the belief in Melissa’s voice. The delivery of the head was the hardest and most dangerous part of the breech. She hooked her gaze with Tom’s, expecting to find trepidation and dread to match her own.
Instead,