A Family Worth Waiting For: The Midwife's Miracle Baby

A week passed and Campbell hadn’t contacted her. The weekend came and went and Monday morning saw another delivery of chocolates, more heavenly than the last five. Claire knew she should ring him and demand that he stop, but with their kiss and its emotional fallout still fresh in her mind she didn’t think she was up to another audience with Campbell.

She knew it was the reason for his silence. He was biding his time until she tired again of his persistence and initiated contact. This time she wasn’t going to give him another opportunity to steal a kiss.

Claire put the fact that she’d actually kissed him to one side. He’d probably had it planned all along. The minute she’d walked into his office … probably even before that. She’d bet he’d been plotting how to get a kiss from her.

And despite all the reasons she shouldn’t, Claire doubted she could be strong enough to resist a second taste of his lips. Never in all her experience of men had she ever met the like of Campbell. Rationally she knew that starting something wasn’t possible or even fair, but she was struggling with an inner resistance that seemed to have sprung from nowhere.

Claire opened the box and absently chose a chocolate, her mind reliving the kiss for the hundredth time. Her phone rang and she was grateful for its intrusion. She’d spent far too much time daydreaming about Campbell lately.

* * *

Campbell was smiling as he shut the door. What a great way to end the week and put you in a good mood—delivering a baby. And what a whopper! Four and a half kilos! No wonder the mother, who had endured a long and exhausting labour, had required some suturing. As Campbell strode past the nurses’ station the sweet aroma of chocolate wafted out to meet him. His stomach grumbled and he realised it was lunchtime.

He chose a chocolate and popped it into his mouth. He knew they were the ones he’d ordered for Claire this morning. He’d specifically asked for a box of heart-shaped chocolates. Her continual rebuffing was beginning to irk. Especially when he saw his gifts being enjoyed by the entire St Jude’s nursing staff. Especially when he couldn’t sleep at night from thinking about that kiss.

‘Great chocolates, Campbell. Thanks,’ said one of the labour ward nurses with a cheeky grin as she chose one and scurried off.

Campbell straightened his tie, took another chocolate and decided it was now or never. He wondered if Claire liked chocolate-flavoured kisses. He had to have more of her sweet lips.

He found her at her desk, writing industriously in a chart. She hadn’t heard him so he lounged against the doorframe for a while. The heavy swing of her raven hair obscured her face, so on she wrote, completely oblivious to his presence. He liked being near her. Even with an office and several desks’ distance between them, he could feel his body’s cells responding. It was hard for him to describe what it was, the feeling was so basic, so elemental. But he liked it.

‘You look like you could do with some lunch, Sister West.’ He watched as her pen stilled and she slowly peeked out from behind the curtain of her hair. ‘Hello, Claire. How are you?’

‘Four kilos heavier, thanks to you. Lunch is out—I’m on a diet.’

‘So …’ he laughed ‘… you didn’t give them all away?’

‘I sampled a few,’ she said, and turned back to her notes.

Claire allowed her hair to swing forward again. Seeing him so unexpectedly had brought him squarely back into her focus. And in the last few days she’d been doing so well, relegating him to the far reaches of her grey matter. Only her dreams visited him there.

‘Lunch, Claire?’ Her dismissal amused him.

‘Can’t do,’ she said, not bothering to look away from her notes. ‘I’m expecting Shirley Miller any moment.’

‘The breech?’

Claire heard the doors to the unit open. ‘Perfect timing.’ She looked up and grinned. She was careful not to come into contact with Campbell’s lounging body as she passed him to greet Shirley. Even just walking nearby, her body responded. It trembled as if they were two magnets, irresistibly drawn to each other.

All thoughts of Campbell fled when Shirley doubled over and clutched her husband’s arm.

‘What’s up, Shirley?’ asked Claire, remaining calm. She guided her client into one of the birthing suites, motioning to Campbell to stay where he was.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, straightening. ‘I’ve been having a lot of false labour pains over the past couple of days and some nagging backache. But just now, in the car park, I think I had a couple of contractions.’

‘OK,’ said Claire. ‘Are you all right to lie down while I feel the baby’s position?’

‘It’s still breech. It hasn’t turned,’ said Shirley as her husband helped her onto the bed.

Claire gently palpated her client’s very pregnant abdomen. ‘Hmm. You’re right. You’re, what … thirty-seven weeks now?’

‘Yes.’

Claire paused, removing her hands as Shirley had another contraction. She gripped Claire’s hand hard as Claire watched the clock to time the contraction. Ninety seconds.

‘They’re bad, aren’t they?’

‘Yes.’ Shirley grimaced.

‘Right. Well, I think we need to get you up to Labour Ward straight away. I’m sorry but, as I already explained, we can’t do a breech birth here.’

‘I know. It’s all right. Frankly, I just want this baby out. I don’t care how or where you do it.’

‘OK,’ Claire laughed. ‘We can do an internal when we get there.’ Claire popped her head out the door.

‘What’s happening?’ Campbell asked.

‘Still breech but definitely in labour. Grab the wheelchair from the storeroom, will you? You can accompany us up to Labour Ward.’

‘Oh, so I do have my uses,’ he teased.

‘Just get the wheelchair.’

Campbell did as he was asked and entered the room shortly afterwards, pushing the chair just as Claire was helping Shirley off the bed. ‘Your chariot, madam,’ he said with a flourish, and bowed.

Shirley and her husband laughed. As she turned to sit in the chair, she cried out and her membranes ruptured. Amniotic fluid flooded over the chair and floor.

‘Oh, God. I’m sorry,’ Shirley apologised.

‘It’s fine, don’t worry,’ Claire assured her, grabbing some hospital-issue towels and throwing them onto the puddle on the floor.

Shirley clutched her stomach and her eyes grew wide in alarm.

‘What?’ asked Campbell.

‘It’s coming. The baby’s coming now!’

Campbell and Claire exchanged the briefest look and sprang into action. They knew that a woman who had been through this three times already could give birth quickly. They also knew that often, when a mother made such an alarming statement, she was spot on.

‘Right, Shirley,’ said Campbell, his voice calm and confident. ‘We’re going to need to have a look at what’s happening.

I know this may be difficult right now, but the most important thing to remember is not to push. OK? You can pant but don’t push. Are you comfortable standing? It really is the best position to deliver the baby. It’s better to have gravity on our side.’

‘This is fine,’ Shirley agreed.

‘If your husband …?’

‘Graham,’ Claire supplied.