The Baby They Longed For. Marion Lennox

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      ‘Addie...’

      ‘There’s no one,’ she snapped. ‘Mum died three years ago. Gav’s mother doesn’t speak to me, and Gav’s long gone. And this baby’s father is a number from a sperm bank. So if I die on the operating table feel free to donate everything to the local cats’ home. But, oh, Noah...’ Her voice shattered on a sob and her grip on his hand tightened. He was no friend but he knew her from the past and it seemed that right now he was all she had.

      ‘You will... The tubes... You will try.’

      ‘I will.’

      ‘Despite the slap.’

      ‘Maybe even a little because of the slap,’ he said ruefully. ‘You were treated appallingly that day.’

      And then he looked up as a redheaded beanpole burst through the door.

      ‘Hey,’ the beanpole said, heading for Noah and holding out his hand in greeting. ‘You’ll be our new surgeon. Noah? I’m Cliff Brooks, anaesthetist.’ He grasped Noah’s hand and then turned his attention to the patient. And stilled in shock. ‘What the...? Addie!’

      ‘It’s ectopic,’ Addie said weakly. ‘I’m... I was... Oh, Cliff, it’s ectopic.’

      ‘Bugger,’ Cliff said, and then added a couple more expletives for good measure. ‘We didn’t even know... I’m so sorry, love.’ He then proceeded to be entirely unprofessional by stooping and giving Addie a hug.

      ‘Hell, Ad, this is the pits but don’t worry. I’ll be watching our new surgeon every step of the way. Let’s get you into Theatre and get things cleared. And if you want to be pregnant... This’ll just be a blip. Maryanne had two miscarriages before she had Michael, and now we have four boys. Hiccups are what happens when you start a family. Don’t cry, love, don’t cry.’

      So he hugged and Noah turned away and headed for the sinks. He felt like he’d felt on Addie’s wedding day. Helpless. And...he had no right to comfort her, so why did it seem so wrong that it wasn’t him who did the hugging?

      * * *

      An ectopic pregnancy was always a grief. Growing in the fallopian tubes instead of in the womb, there was no chance a baby could survive. Someday someone might figure a way such a pregnancy could be transplanted to the womb, Noah thought, but that day was a long way off.

      By the time of the rupture, the embryo was lifeless. The pressure was on to save the mother. Preserving fertility had to come second. When a woman had a complete family and there was no need to try and make future pregnancies viable, the surgery was much simpler but now... Noah was calling on skills he barely had.

      Cliff was good. Noah had checked out the credentials of his anaesthetist before taking on the job, but he’d never worked with him. The fact that he was personally involved could have been a worry, but from the moment he’d released Addie from the hug Cliff had turned pure professional.

      ‘You focus on your end. Leave everything else to me,’ Cliff growled, and at least Noah could stop thinking about blood pressure, about the logistics of keeping a haemorrhaging patient alive, and focus purely on the technical.

      Except he couldn’t quite, because this was Addie.

      Separation of personal to professional...how hard was that? He’d glanced at Cliff as Addie had slipped under, and he’d seen grimness in the man’s expression. He wasn’t the only one caught in personal distress for the woman they were operating on.

      But why did he feel like this?

      In truth he’d only had a working relationship, with Gavin as well as Addie. He’d been Gavin’s boss but he’d been surprised to be asked to be best man. Gavin had obviously kept his life compartmentalised. Work, home and stuff-that-no-one-was-to-know-about. Until after the wedding fiasco when the hospital grapevine had practically exploded.

      Addie had kept to herself, too, but where Gavin’s lesser-known compartment had turned out to be spectacular, Addie’s seemed anything but. The grapevine said that she worked and she looked after her mother. At the hospital she and Noah had occasionally operated or consulted together, but he’d thought her quiet, almost mousy. Technically skilled. Conscientious. Nothing special.

      He’d operated on colleagues before, men and women he’d known far better than this. So now...why was it so hard to block out the thought of Addie’s distress, the sight of her face, bleached by fear and shock?

      He had to block it out. Her life depended on it.

      The first part of the surgery was straightforward. An incision, finding the source of the bleeding, removing the unviable pregnancy. There was inflammation around it, and bleeding from the rupture.

      ‘Possible to do a salpingotomy?’ Cliff queried as Noah cleared and tried to see what he was left with.

      Salpingotomy was the removal of the damaged embryo and then microscopic repair and preservation of the fallopian tube. He looked at the damage under his hands and shook his head. Such microscopic surgery took real obstetric skill, skills he wasn’t sure he possessed. There wasn’t time to transfer her to Sydney for a specialist obstetric surgeon to take over, but even if there had been...

      ‘Not possible,’ he growled. ‘There’s too much damage to preserve it.’ It had to be a salpingectomy, the complete removal of the tube. ‘Future fertility rates aren’t so different,’ he muttered, talking to himself rather than to Cliff.

      Cliff gave him a searching look and then nodded and went back to his monitors.

      There was the sound of a sob from somewhere behind him—from one of the nurses.

      So Addie was loved? She’d been working in this hospital for three years. A small hospital where people had come to know her.

      He worked on, but as he did he was increasingly aware of the tension around him.

      ‘We didn’t even know she was pregnant,’ the theatre nurse, Heidi, a woman in her fifties, muttered as he completed the removal of the damaged tube. ‘There’s never been a hint of a guy. She’s been going back and forth to Sydney but only ever overnight. She never takes holidays. We thought...’ She swallowed, biting back what she thought. ‘The other tube?’

      ‘Looks good,’ he muttered, and felt a ripple of relief through the theatre.

      ‘It’s still awful.’ Heidi was still looking distressed. ‘Chances of successful pregnancy after...’

      ‘It’s better than death,’ Cliff said roughly. ‘The chances aren’t zero. Leave it, Heidi. We all need to be positive, for Addie’s sake.’

      Noah was closing, carefully ensuring everything that could be done was done. If he’d been able to preserve the tube Addie would be facing constant monitoring over the next few weeks, to ensure there was no further growth in the tube, but at least now it was straightforward.

      She’d recover. She’d get on with life.

      Just as she had after the wedding, he thought. Just as she had after being humiliated to the socks, standing jilted at a church with everyone she loved around her.

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