His Bundle of Love. Patricia Davids

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СКАЧАТЬ is his name?”

      “Mick…O’Callaghan.” Don’t let her be alone, Mick. Please, take care of her.

      Darkness swooped in and began to pull Caitlin away. She struggled against it. She needed to stay for her baby.

      “We’re losing her,” someone shouted.

      Chapter Two

      Mick caught up with the baby as they wheeled her into the nearest elevator. Squeezing in beside them, he stared in amazement at Caitlin’s daughter. He’d never seen anything so tiny. Her head was no bigger than the palm of his hand; his little finger was thicker than her gangly legs, yet she was so complete. Downy, brown hair covered her head and miniature wrinkles creased her forehead above arching brows. She even had eyelashes! The tiny spikes lay curved against her cheek. Awed by the wonder of this new life, he gazed at her in fascination. Truly, here was one of God’s greatest creations.

      Her delicate hands flew up and curled around the breathing tube taped in her mouth.

      “No, honey, don’t pull on that,” a nurse chided as she pried the tiny fingers loose. “Hold Daddy’s hand instead,” she suggested with an encouraging smile.

      Hesitantly, almost fearfully, Mick reached for the baby’s hand. Her thin fingers gripped his large, blunt one. Her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him and blinked, then her frown deepened into a scowl. An identical, miniature version of her mother’s, and Michael Aaron O’Callaghan fell hopelessly in love.

      “She looks like her mom,” he said, surprised to hear the catch in his voice. He glanced at the woman beside him. “Will she be all right?”

      “She has a very good chance, but there is a long road ahead of her, I’m afraid. I’m Dr. Wright. I’m one of the neonatologists on staff here. Her lungs are much too immature to work properly, so she’s going to need help. She’ll be placed on a ventilator once we reach the unit.” As she spoke, she continued rhythmically squeezing a small, gray bag that delivered oxygen to the baby. “Do you have a name for her?”

      “Beth,” he answered, “or maybe Elizabeth. Her mother can tell you for sure. When can she come and see her?”

      “We’ll be busy getting Beth admitted and stabilized for the next hour or so. I’d suggest you wait until then to bring Mom in.” The elevator doors slid open, and Mick followed them as they wheeled the baby across the hall and into the NICU.

      A flurry of activity began as soon as they entered the large room. At first, it seemed like nurses were scurrying in all directions at once, but it quickly became apparent it was a controlled rush as Beth was placed on a larger bed, and hooked to a waiting ventilator. Within minutes, a jungle of wires, IV poles, tubing and oxygen hoses surrounded her.

      Glancing around the room, Mick noted with amusement its peculiar mix of Mother Goose and science-fiction technology. Rows of flashing monitors and digital displays shared wall space with giant nursery-rhyme characters above the open beds and incubators. IV poles held bags of fluid, swaying mobiles and colorful toys.

      Dr. Wright spoke as she worked. “We need to administer a medication directly into Beth’s lungs to help mature them and start some IVs.”

      Mick interrupted, “What are her chances, honestly?”

      “She weighs barely two pounds, and she looks to be about twenty-six weeks gestation, which means she was born fourteen weeks early. Her chances of survival are good if she doesn’t develop any serious complications. Only time will tell.”

      After the excitement of Beth’s admission died down, the nurses let Mick sit beside her bed. He couldn’t get over how adorable she looked in spite of the tubes and wires. His heart warmed to her as he watched her with a sense of wonder and fascination. After a while, he glanced at the clock surprised to see how late it was. In the rush of events he had forgotten to call home.

      “I’d better go and tell your mother how you’re doing. I know she’s worried.”

      He took a last look at the little girl whose arrival had generated so much activity. “Goodbye, Beth. Be well,” he whispered, knowing he might never see her again. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, and he smiled. He took hold of her tiny hand. “May God grant you many years to live, for sure He must be knowing, the Earth has angels all too few, and heaven’s overflowing.”

      A nurse across the bed smiled at him as she added medication to a bag of IV fluid. “Are you a poet?”

      Sheepishly, he grinned. “It’s an old Irish blessing, something my mother always says as a kind of birthday wish.”

      “It’s darling. I’ll write it out and put it on her bed. We like to keep personal things by the babies, like toys or photos. Things that help the families connect with their baby.”

      She reached out and patted his arm. “I’m Sandra Carter. Try not to worry, Irish. She’s a fighter, I can tell.”

      “I hope you’re right.”

      “Hold out your hand.” He did and she fastened a hospital wristband around his arm. “You’ll need this to get back in.”

      He fingered the white strip of plastic without comment. He was here under false pretenses, but only because Caitlin had insisted. Still, that didn’t quite ease his conscience.

      After making his way back to the E.R., he halted on the threshold of the room where he’d left Caitlin. It was empty.

      Out at the main desk, Mick spoke to the heavyset woman seated behind it. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where they’ve taken the woman who just had a baby here?”

      “The patient’s name?” she asked in a bored voice, continuing to write on the paper in front of her.

      “Caitlin Williams.”

      She laid down her pen, then shuffled through the charts beside her. She located one, flipped it open, then gave him a startled look. “Let me get Dr. Reese to speak with you.”

      She hoisted her bulk out of the chair and opened a door behind her. “Doctor, there’s someone here asking about the Williams woman.”

      The unease Mick felt intensified when the grave-looking doctor emerged from the doorway. “Are you family?” he asked.

      “No. I’m—a friend. Is something wrong?”

      “I’m afraid so. Ms. Williams has developed a rare complication of pregnancy called amniotic fluid embolus.”

      “What does that mean?”

      Drawing a deep breath, the doctor continued, “It means during her delivery, some of the amniotic fluid got into her blood stream. Once there, it traveled up through her heart and lodged in her lung preventing her from getting enough oxygen. That stopped her heart.”

      “She’s dead?” Mick struggled to grasp the man’s words.

      “No,” Dr. Reese admitted slowly. “We were able to restart her heart. Ms. Williams is on a ventilator now, but she hasn’t regained consciousness. The lack of oxygen can cause profound brain damage, and the embolus can cause СКАЧАТЬ