Blake sat motionless beside the theatre table as
doctors and nurses fussed around his pretty wife. Her long black hair was stuffed into a net
that could barely hold the luxurious tresses.
There was nameless worry in her eyes but Blake squeezed her hand and
winked to suggest that everything would be all right.
The first two years of marriage had been
blissful. Blake and Amy had moved into a
renovated beach house in Toowoon Bay and, before they could furnish it
properly, Amy became pregnant. All was
well until the last month of the pregnancy when the baby suddenly shifted
position, causing Amy some distress and her obstetrician some concern. Amy found herself facing a caesarian section
to make sure the pregnancy had a happy ending.
The coarse theatre garb and his facemask made Blake
feel uncomfortable but he was in no doubt that in these days of modern medicine
there was very little chance of anything happening to threaten either Amy or
their unborn child. Around him were
professionals who saw this sort of predicament as routine and they all seemed
relaxed and intent on getting the job done.
“Don’t worry, Blake.
This will work out fine. As I
told you, it’s really just a precaution.
I don’t think we should run the risk that the baby might put Amy through
a lot of needless pain and itself into a state of panic and then we’d have to
do a caesarian anyway.” The obstetrician
looked at Blake only momentarily as he went about various preliminary
tasks. “I promise you I’m not doing it
this way so I can get to my golf game later today.”
One of the male nurses chuckled and Blake tried to
smile before he remembered that his mask made any facial expressions
futile. Amy was awake and the epidural
was taking effect. She gripped Blake’s
hand and grinned at him.
“Can you feel this?”
The surgeon was prodding Amy’s swollen stomach.
“Not really.”
“Just a sensation of prodding? No pain?”
“That’s right.”
“OK, let’s begin then.” He put his hand out for whatever implement
was required. It was promptly delivered. An incision was made and then others. There was blood. Hands moved quickly to apply clamps and
absorbent cloths to control the wound.
It all happened in seconds. The obstetrician’s gloves disappeared deep
inside Amy’s womb. She grunted and
closed her eyes with the discomfort of the intrusion.
“No pain?”
“Not pain.
Just a lot of pushing around.”
“Good. Nearly
done.” Suddenly the surgeon had lifted a
baby into the air. The bright lights of
the theatre seemed to shine with happiness.
“A beautiful boy. Congratulations
Mum and Dad.”
Blake was ecstatic but Amy seemed shocked. Then her eyes widened and she saw her child
for the first time. She wanted to hold
him. Turning to Blake, she squeezed his
hand and then let it go.
The placenta was duly clipped. Blake and Amy watched everything, trying to
ensure they would remember these moments forever. A nurse helped the doctor clear the mouth and
nasal passages of the infant, who was pale and apparently uninterested in
making his voice known to the world.
“Mmmm. He’s a
bit sluggish isn’t he?” The casual tone
had gone out of the doctor’s voice.
“Let’s have a closer look.
C’mon. How about giving us a big
cry?”
The baby was placed on a small table on the other
side of the theatre. Amy looked at Blake.
She was still in a state of bliss. Then she saw the anxiety in Blake’s blue
eyes.
“What? Blake,
what?”
“Sir, I’m sorry but I think it’d be best if you leave
now. I have to ask you to wait in your
wife’s room please.” The nurse was
respectful but businesslike.
Blake went into the change room and began to dress in
his own clothes. A youthful medical
professional was putting on his theatre attire.
“You another new dad?” The young man was simply being friendly but
the question rocked Blake.
“Yes.” Blake
could not bring himself to consider the possibility that something serious was
wrong but his response was laced with doubt.
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
“Got a name yet?”
“Not yet. I
have to speak with the boss.” Blake was
sounding more uneasy.
“Good luck, mate.”
He left, now somewhat sheepish.
Blake finished dressing and went to the ward. He sat in Amy’s room for twenty long
minutes. Outside cars were jamming the
highway as mothers competed in the daily chore of collecting their children
from the school in Craigie Avenue.
Visitors hurried noisily down the corridor of the busy ward, carrying
flowers and teddy bears as gifts for the new mothers and their children. The obstetrician finally appeared. He closed the door and sat on a chair next to
Blake.
“We’ve lost the baby I’m afraid. I’m terribly sorry. He had a very rare condition we usually refer
to as ….”
It was as if Blake’s hearing was abruptly switched
off. He heard no more of the
explanation. His blue eyes were filling
with tears but his first thoughts were for Amy.
He glanced at the open book the doctor was showing him. In the corner of one page was a drawing of a
severely deformed baby. The picture did
not seem anything like the perfect child Blake had glimpsed in the operating
theatre.
Blake’s sense of hearing returned as the surgeon rose
to leave.
“If there’s anything you need, just call the ward
sister. She understands the
situation.” The doctor left and closed
the door.
Another half an hour went by before the door opened
again. Two orderlies wheeled a prone Amy
into the room. Her eyes were raw, red
with tears.
“I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her voice seemed to echo as if she was
calling out from the rotten pockets of hell.
Blake went to her and tried to embrace her without touching
her stomach.
“Did you give him a
name? He has to have a name.”
Amy was right. He must have a name even though he was a
child she never knew. She never once
bounced him on her knees and the milk of her breasts never ever filled his tiny
stomach. His personality would be either
forever blank or whatever she wanted to invent for him. She saw his little face in her mind but she
could not imagine it ageing. He was like
a silent angel. No words were ever
uttered by him. The doctor had said the
baby was ‘a bit sluggish’ and sluggish he remained forever – so sluggish that
he never cried to be fed. Nor did he
reach out to be cuddled. His teeth were
still dormant in his gums and his eyes would never adjust to the light of day
and the blackness of night.
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