Second Chance in Barcelona
Автор
Fiona McArthur
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PROLOGUE
‘SOFIA?’ CLEO SPOKE quietly as she crossed to the first-time mum in the birthing unit. ‘I’m Cleo Wren.’
Sofia Gonzales sat as haughty as a princess in her bed with her jet-black hair coiled in a plait on her head. Her long slender neck looked delicate against the pillows. Most telling, her elegant fingers twitched and then stiffened as she clasped them together on the coverlet with rigid tension. The girl stared unsmilingly back.
She looked fragile to Cleo. Even from that first moment she’d entered the room. So young and lost. A child, bearing a child. Alone. Cleo felt sympathy rise in her chest.
‘You are the next shift?’ The words were formal and surprisingly soft. The accent Spanish, her friend Jen, the previous shift’s midwife, had said.
‘Yes. I am. And you are Sofia?’ She smiled. ‘I hope we are simpatico as we will spend the next eight hours or so together until you meet your baby.’
A tiny lift of one corner of the lovely mouth. ‘Jen said you are a woman of warmth, determination and strength. I need that on my side. That is simpatico enough for me.’
Despite the brisk words Cleo could see how close to breaking this young woman was and she wanted to know why. She touched her hand and Sofia’s fingers closed around hers in greeting.
Sofia nodded. ‘The doctor has said he will see me to deliver this baby in the morning. He thinks I will be here in labour all night.’
‘You and your baby are both well and already working together. It is quite possible we can surprise him in the morning.’
‘I would like that.’ Labour intruded, and with the first links of connection between the two women established, something crumpled inside Sofia and she turned her face away to hide the weakness. ‘I’m scared,’ the girl whispered, with her soft European cadence. Sofia grabbed tighter to Cleo’s hand and began to gasp through the contraction.
Cleo placed her other hand firmly on Sofia’s shoulder and concentrated on transferring calmness and strength through her fingers. Young and alone. She felt so glad she’d chosen to come in here for the extra shift now. Jen had said this woman badly needed support.
Sixty seconds later, as the contraction ended, Sofia released Cleo’s hand, and Cleo mimed blowing out a deep breath to demonstrate.
‘Purse your lips and blow that contraction away,’ she murmured as she assessed how best to help her new initiate into the wonders of birth. ‘Allow your body to sink into the bed and sigh a big sigh after each contraction.’
Sofia closed her eyes and followed Cleo’s instructions obediently, and when she opened them again some of the fright had receded. She blinked and already her face appeared less tightly drawn.
‘There. That one is done.’
‘Many more to come, though.’ Sofia tried to smile. ‘I’m still scared.’
Cleo nodded. ‘Doing something you’ve never done before asks a lot of us. But I’ll stay with you. By the time you’ve had your baby you’ll have achieved one of the most amazing things in your life. You won’t be scared any more. You’ll have turned into a lioness to protect your young.’
‘Easy for you to say.’ A little haughty impatience in the tone and Cleo held in a smile. ‘I’ll have been in agony and it will take hours.’
‘Not agony. But hours, yes, possibly. We’ll work on speeding labour up. But the journey will take as long as it needs to.’
‘Sí. The faster the better.’
Cleo glanced around the empty room. She couldn’t understand the lack of support for this woman. This was a private hospital that cost bucketloads to be admitted to. Why was she alone? The previous staff had asked, and she’d just said her family were overseas. But where was the baby’s dad?
‘Is there anyone I can call to come to sit with you as well?’
‘No.’ A long pause and then quietly, ‘My fiancé has left me. I am alone.’
The shock made Cleo’s eyes widen. Cleo’s husband had left her, too. Not as a pregnant woman in labour, thank goodness. But she understood Sofia’s sadness now.
Had he left Sofia for a richer woman, more acceptable to his mother? Like hers had?
Sofia went on. ‘Any family...’ A pause and a definite lip curl. ‘Any I would have with me are in Spain.’
So? ‘I’m guessing there are family in Australia, then?’
‘My cousin has destroyed my life by forcing my fiancé to leave me. He is the same as his father was. A pig.’
Well, Cleo could understand why she wouldn’t want her cousin here. That was fine. She’d been thinking of female relatives or friends. ‘No one else?’
‘My parents are dead. Last year in a car accident.’ Sofia shook her head. ‘Close to me, there is just my grandmother in Spain and she is old and agreed with my cousin that he should ruin my life.’ There was hurt and bewilderment as well as anger.
‘You need someone here to stay with you until you give birth. May I stay until your baby has arrived?’
Sofia searched Cleo’s face. ‘What if my baby is not here before your shift ends?’ She didn’t believe her. ‘Jen was here before and now she has gone.’
‘Jen had already done a double shift. And she must come back tomorrow as the manager. I do these occasional shifts to stay connected to my old job when I worked here. Now I work as a retrieval nurse for patients who need a medical escort to fly home, to Australia or overseas. But I don’t need to check in there again until Monday. When the new staff come on, I’ll stay as a support person if your baby hasn’t entered the world. I’ll be here.’
‘I would like that.’ Sofia’s eyes clung to hers. ‘But why would you do this?’
Their eyes met and Cleo smiled. ‘I need to be here for you at this time. Easy.’ She shrugged. ‘Let’s check your observations and your baby’s heart rate. Then, with your permission, I’ll feel the position of your baby through your belly to see if it’s curled itself in the best way to find a way out.’
A smile tugged on Sofia’s beautiful mouth. ‘Does a baby assume a position?’
Another contraction rolled over her and she moaned. Cleo held her hand through the heavy breathing and when it was done, they breathed out together.
‘A position? Absolutely a baby chooses. And with the angles of your own body you can give your baby hints on slight changes that make all the difference to the length of your labour. Just by moving your centre of gravity around. We’ll do that, too.’
A few minutes later the observations had been completed and found to be all within acceptable limits. ‘Baby’s moving down into the pelvis as expected.’ They breathed through another contraction together.
Cleo sat again to chart Sofia’s progress and observations on the rolling computer beside the bed. Then she saved the file and pushed the computer away.
‘So now we’ve done that for the moment, I’ll help you stand out of bed.’ She pretended to frown at the bed. ‘Beds are not great for healthy mums in labour because lying in bed can slow everything down.’
Sofia looked worried. ‘I don’t think I can move.’
‘It will feel better to move, I promise. Standing adds gravity to help your baby descend even more.’ She showed crossed fingers to Sofia. ‘Makes labour faster!’
Sofia’s eyes widened at the possibility and she rolled onto her side, suddenly eager to get up. ‘Then I will stand.’
They walked around the room, pausing during the contractions, finding places of comfort before the contractions increased. The waves of labour progression were still infrequent enough for conversation.
Sofia perched gingerly on the big rubber ball when Cleo suggested it, and her eyes widened as the round softness beneath her eased her back discomfort. Together they examined the shower, and discussed the big bath in the bathroom at which Sofia looked askance.
Cleo laughed. ‘You wait. If I can get you into that bath, up to your neck in warm water, I’ll have trouble getting you out again. You’ll love it so much.’
She rested her hand gently on Sofia’s shoulder as another contraction rolled over the woman.
Sofia gripped the bathroom doorframe and forced the breath from between her lips to stay relaxed.
‘Perfect,’ murmured Cleo. ‘You’re breathing beautifully. That was a stronger contraction.’
Sofia nodded, then sagged a little when the tightness released its grip on her. ‘And closer to the last one as well.’
‘Which is wonderful. Stronger and closer means nearer to meeting your baby.’
Sofia raised her brows at her. ‘Easy for you to say.’
‘Indeed. Though in my defence I have seen this point in labour many times and women always fill me with wonder. They keep going. Like you will. Just one contraction at a time until the most amazing thing occurs and the baby is here in your arms. Keep thinking of that.’
Sofia glanced at the bed meaningfully. Cleo shook her head. ‘And try to stay off the bed. Lying down slows contractions and builds tension in your body. We talked about that. More, not less discomfort.’
‘I wish I could send these pains to the father of this child.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Or my horrid cousin. Yes. I would send them to him. He would have dragged me back to Spain before the baby was born if he could have and then I wouldn’t even have had you.’
Cleo didn’t like the sound of anyone being dragged anywhere against their will. Not something she had experience of. ‘Can’t you say no?’
‘Much good that would do me. My cousin is the head of my family now. His father was my guardian and threatened me with an arranged marriage. My parents left me financially independent enough to be able to complete university in Australia. Out of his reach. I slipped away when he was ill and then he died. I was so happy living here. Now his son has ruined my life. Bah, I hate him.’
Hate. Not what they needed in labour. Cleo touched her arm. ‘Then don’t think about him. Tell me the most beautiful thing about your home. I’ve never been to Spain. I’d like to go someday.’
With effort Sofia breathed out and almost visibly shook off the strong feelings that had upset her. ‘I live in Barcelona. When I was a child my mother used to take me to the Sagrada Familia. It is a beautiful church built by Gaudi on the Carrer de Mallorca.’ She smiled at the memory and the tension leaked from her shoulders. ‘My mother would say, “Surely this is the most beautiful church in the world.” Yet it is still unfinished more than a hundred years later.’
‘It sounds amazing. I must look it up. What else?’
‘I love tapas. Barcelona has wonderful food.’ Her voice sounded dreamy and she smiled. ‘And the dancing. I love the dancing.’ She was smiling now at some distant memory. ‘The men are very handsome when they dance.’
Cleo smiled, relieved Sofia had calmed down. ‘They sound gorgeous. Jen’s boyfriend is Catalonian and he’s certainly a handsome man. They’re trying to talk me into going to his nightclub where there is flamenco dancing. One day I’ll go.’
‘Is that this Jen? From here?’
Cleo laughed. So much for privacy. No escaping it as Jen had looked after Sofia in the previous shift. ‘Yes.’
Sofia smiled. ‘And one of my friends told me about this hospital and Jen. So, you and I, we were destined to meet.’
Cleo thought about Jen’s cry for help for this lonely young woman. ‘I’d like to think so.’ And then the next powerful wave stopped all discussions.
Two hours later the contractions rolled over Sofia relentlessly but, as Cleo had promised, once she’d climbed into the birth pool, the heated bathwater lapped around and supported her. As the crashing waves of transition pushed her into second stage she breathed and moaned yet remained calm.
There was a brief pause in the labour as Sofia’s body prepared for the final dance of birth. Cleo anticipated what was to come as the room rested quietly with her. Soft music underlay the steady breathing of the mother. Cleo knelt beside the bath, her gloved hands resting on the edge of the bath out of the water as she waited.
The second midwife, discreetly summoned by Cleo as birth became imminent, sat unobtrusively in the corner of the room, only rising to take and record the myriad observations as required. Cleo remained focussed on Sofia as her baby’s head began to descend into the world. Her charge’s previous tension seemed to have been released.
When the moment of birth arrived, it was Sofia’s careful hands that reached down and lifted her own tumbled underwater baby from the depths of the pool and carried her to the surface.
In support, Cleo’s hands cupped the mother’s hands as she broke the surface with her new daughter to rest her tiny, blue-tinged face between Sofia’s breasts. Cleo wiped the baby’s eyes, nose and mouth with a soft sponge and she breathed. No cry. But blinkingly awake.
Sofia’s brimming eyes met Cleo’s and Cleo nodded. ‘Congratulations. She’s beautiful. You’re amazing.’
Such incredulous wonder on the mother’s face. ‘She’s here. I did it. Thank you.’
