It’s a Wonderful Life
Anna likes the maternity ward. It is generally a place of hope and positivity, staffed by pleasant, chatty midwives. While not every birth goes according to plan, tragedy is rare. Since lunch, she has had a variety of good news stories, and is feeling like she may be able to get to the end of the day unscathed.
It always amazes her how quiet the ward is. A heavily pregnant woman in a dressing gown and slippers shuffles slowly along the corridor, leaning on her partner. She gives Anna a rueful smile as they pass. Anna stops to check her patient’s location before making her way to the correct birthing room. She breezes through the door with a broad smile and a bundle of cheeriness. Expectant mothers are often at the end of their ability to tolerate pain when they ask for an epidural; a projection of confidence and hope can make them feel better.
A midwife and student midwife are present, along with two other women. Anna guesses they are mother and daughter, given the age difference between them. Her patient is lying on the bed, draped like a rag doll, curled around her swollen belly. Her mother is sitting beside the bed, the plastic chair pulled up close so she can stroke through her daughter’s hair. Anna is suddenly struck with how many women through the generations have done this self-same thing to bring comfort.
Even with the daughter in an open-backed hospital gown, Anna can tell these people come from money. She doesn’t need to see the distinctive clasp on the tote bag the older woman holds to know its designer. Everything about the older woman screams elegance. It helps she has the bone structure of Michelle Pfieffer, but her make-up is natural and flattering. Her chestnut brown hair is immaculate, expensively died and beautifully styled. In keeping with the rest of her, the clothes are simple – white shirt and navy trousers – but they fit like a glove.
Anna has seen so many of these women throughout her life, she is unfazed by them, but she remembers the advice from one of the training consultants: “ Always be nice to the ones who look like they could afford to sue you ,” he said. Anna prefers to be nice to all her patients, but in her career she has seen many doctors who play to favourites.
She turns her attention to the woman on the bed. “You must be Allegra Spencer.” She wonders if they are related to the famous family, but her patient is wearing a wedding ring, so it may not be her family name. She waits for the pregnant woman’s slight nod before she continues: “I’m Doctor Anna Mortimer. I’m here to give you an epidural. Is that correct?”
The pregnant woman pauses for a moment, breathing through a contraction before she answers. “Oh! Thank God!”
Anna turns to the older woman. “And this is?” she asks. Early in her career, she made the mistake of assuming an elderly woman was the mother, only to find out she was the wife. Even though her patient has the same chestnut brown hair as her companion, one of them at least is not natural.
“My mother,” the patient answers. The mother leans forwards and offers her hand. “Matissa Cole,” she introduces herself.
“Well, Allegra,” Anna says, “we just have a few questions to run through and then I’ll get started. I’ll put in a canula first, just in case we have to administer some fluids or other medications. And then we’ll insert the epidural.”
She runs through her spiel, outlining the possible side-effects and complications. The midwife should have already done this, but Anna always repeats it. It is ultimately her responsibility. She would like to say Allegra is giving them good consideration, but the response is, “Yes, yes. Just do it.”
The midwife washes her hands, pulls on some gloves, and proceeds to insert the canula. She then demonstrates the position the patient will need to adopt, giving Allegra a pillow to hug, and curling her around it.
Gowned, masked and gloved, and with Allegra’s back exposed, Anna cleans the skin and applies the sterile drape. She gives the age-old warning, “A little sting,” as she injects a local anaesthetic to numb the area. Feeling between the vertebrae for the correct spot, Anna smiles. The spine is open nicely and she slides the needle in. She talks gently to Allegra throughout – simple cautions to remain still, gentle descriptions of the process, interspersed with checks on the patient’s progress. It is almost stream-of-consciousness. At one point she hears Allegra’s breath change and she halts the procedure as her patient endures another contraction. As soon as it passes, she inserts the catheter. They are almost done.
Anna lets out a small sigh of relief. There is always an element of risk. Like all things in medicine, it is reduced by being careful. This is why she dare not carry thoughts of Tolly into her work. As soon as his name surfaces, she forces it back down again, so she can concentrate on her patient. The midwife is laying Allegra back down again. The epidural will take a few minutes to work, but the reassurance of having it is already perking Allegra up.
Matissa is leaning forwards, gazing intently at Anna. “Are you single, my dear?” she asks. “I have a son about your age.”
Anna gives a rueful smile. She has had plenty of patients trying to set her up with sons, grandsons, brothers, and even fathers. “I’m not looking at the moment,” she says. “But thank you for thinking of me.” She inclines her head.
She is scrunching up her protective clothing, about to drop it into the clinical waste bin for disposal when the birthing room door opens.
“Good news, Mother, I’ve got your oat milk latte and, Allegra, they had peppermint tea. Also, I checked on your husband and his plane has landed, so he won’t be much longer,” the newcomer announces.
Anna freezes. She is looking straight into the eyes of the Sexiest Man Alive.
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she thinks. She forces herself to move. The bin lid clangs shut as she takes a step.
“Don’t go,” Tolly cries. His hand comes up but doesn’t grab her. Still, she pauses.
“I don’t care. I want you ,” he says. His eyes plead with her.
Anna thinks of all her previous objections. Some of them have gone, courtesy of her talk with Eleanor. Some still remain. But then she remembers James’s words at lunch: Take love wherever you can find it . Maybe it is a better mantra to live by. And after all, if the job and the countries and the families were different, would she hesitate?
She crosses the space between them. Her hands come up, sliding either side of his head. She straightens to her full height and places her lips directly on his. It feels like heaven.
Tolly’s arms wrap around her. He holds her steady as she kisses him with all the exhilaration flooding inside her. In the distance, she can hear the cut glass tones of Matissa: “Young people today don’t hang about, do they?” But the rest of the world seems so far away. Even Allegra’s answering giggle seems to come from another universe. All there is, is the feel of Tolly’s hands on her body, the taste of him in her mouth and the joy surging through her.
Thin scrubs do nothing to soften the hard muscularity of his body pressed against hers. It is as if she is surrounded by a Tolly-scented weighted blanket and she has never felt happier.
A throat clears. A hand touches her shoulder. A voice says, “Doctor Mortimer.”
And Anna surfaces from her stupor. The midwife is standing beside her, her head cocked. “Take this outside,” she instructs.
“No. Don’t,” Allegra countermands. “This is the most fun I’ve had in hours!”
But Anna steps back, looking sheepish. The midwife has a point. This is hardly professional. Besides, she has another two hours of her shift. Someone, somewhere in this hospital, will be waiting for pain relief. Still in Tolly’s arms, she turns to see the room. The student midwife has her mouth open wide enough to catch frogs, not flies. Allegra is grinning – the epidural is obviously working. Matissa is sitting back in her chair, blinking as if she cannot believe the evidence of her own eyes. The midwife still has her head cocked but she isn’t frowning. And Tolly. Tolly looks like his world is alight. His eyes shine. His face is flushed and his chest is puffed. If Anna had to guess, she would say this is what immeasurable happiness looks like. She wonders if she appears the same. She certainly feels it.
Anna clears her throat. She looks at Tolly. “Well,” she says. “I guess I’ll call you later. I’ll let you all get on.” With the very important business of bringing a baby into the world.
Then she leaves the birthing room and walks as rapidly as she can to the nearest staff toilet. Among all the posters promoting good hygiene, she takes deep, yogic breaths. She can hardly believe what she has just done.
This may well be the new best day of her life.
END