Beautiful Lives and Tragic Endings

chapter one

I wonder what it would be like to live in eternal bliss, just like what I can usually give to people for a couple of minutes. Not this time. I can hear the sigh and the sounds of hopeful joy from two people I only met a couple of hours ago and yet here I am - a part of their eternal bliss and someone they'll likely remember for the rest of their lives, even if I will probably forget them within the year. I can't stop my eyes from skimming over the clock. 10 minutes. 11 minutes. 12. They move so seamlessly from one to the other. I look above the bed to observe the energy in the air, it's a weird one. Here I am, time is moving around me, everyone is buzzing and I feel stuck, I cannot move from here. Again, my eyes glaze over the clock. 15 minutes? Just one blink of my eye and the precious time is slipping, slipping through my hands. Get out of your trance. I'm looking down at the pool of blood between her legs. Look to my right, someone has handed me more towels and I unconsciously move the old ones. Now I feel electric, not a good electric though. I can't keep letting time get away from me like this when I'm trying to control the situation at hand. I'm just thinking of asking for help when the help walks in. I'm asked the same usual questions that you would ask in this situation and my answer is yes. Yes - I have done everything within the protocol and I know this looks bad but please trust that if nothing changed within the last minute I was going to get your help - I promise. I'm being looked upon with beady eyes and looks of disappointment. It's not every day that you're new to the job and everything goes wrong in your presence. I can tell that I'm giving my most reassuring face and speaking the kindest of words even if my skin is filled with goosebumps, my eyes glazed with tears and the panic that's consuming my body. At this time, I should be thinking about the woman on the bed but I'm thinking of my dad. He used to say 'Rosie, you wear your heart on your sleeve, there's not much you can get past me. When you smile, I can see the sadness in your eyes.' He would always remind me that even when the sun shines, the rain always comes. I can't hide my feelings, everyone can see everything on my face, I am the open book everyone says they are but I wish I wasn't. Still, I sit here, at the end of the bed, requesting things left right and centre, hiding my true feelings because what I always wish for anyone in this world, is to find their eternal bliss.

I take my forearm and wipe it across the sweat on my forehead. Just after 40 minutes and I call it, I tell Leslie the help to pull the emergency buzzer. It is the worst sound I will ever hear in my life, there is nothing more than that sound to trigger the largest adrenaline rush within my body, it's worse than the fall of a rollercoaster - it's a thing to fuel nightmares. Yet, despite the terror that is now running around the ward, our couple still has that heavenly glow that can only be had once you've had your baby. I look up at her, even with the slight smile she has still when she thinks of him, we lock eyes and I can see the worry. Is she the same as me? Can we see each other for what we really are? My eyes are saying sorry, I don't know what hers are telling me. When I was training for this vocation, we were taught a lot about communication and how to do it because god knows except me how a normal person would communicate. 'It's not just what you say, your body language has a part to play to'. It's something I think about every time I meet someone new. It's something I always think of when I'm at work, I'm not as great as people think I am. I am an imposter. Now the horrid sound of the emergency has stopped, I'm standing and it's like I've been pulled out of the riptide and into the reality I am in but have been swimming to try to get out of. Everything goes from blurry to clear as day.

"How long has it been now?" The registrar walks in, demanding information that I have only just registered. "40 minutes" I add "Oxytocin was administered IM and the 40 international units were put up 25 minutes ago, there's been no change, we've lost around 600mls of blood so far." I take in the biggest breath, it feels like I've not breathed oxygen in a while. Equipment is being wheeled into the room, Leslie assists the doctors with the manual removal. I've decided that maybe my place is reassuring and consoling, I want in on some of that bliss. Now at the top of the bed, the air seems calmer than it was down there and I finally get a good look at our new family. Dad has dried tear lines down his face, he's leaning down by mums head, giving her little kisses, whispering words of affirmations into her ear. He looks at her like she is a Goddess like no one else is in this room but him, her, and their creation, nothing matters to him but everything that is in this room. Mum, cradling her baby on her chest, one hand stroking his face, I see her hand tremble. I see she is terrified. She's not like me. I was convinced that in face of everything, she was strong, happy, even worried a little, I couldn't see anything until now. I see her chest rise and lower slowly, it gets slower and slower. I take all of her observations, her heart rate is skyrocketing, her blood pressure is dropping. I am scared.

"Get her to the theatre" I hear someone mutter. That's it. What once was a beautiful scene, has now become a tragic moment. A tragic moment that I - no doubt - will think about for the rest of my life.

I let them finish up in theatre, Leslie decided to take over for me. She said, "Rosie, go and take a break." I decided to punish myself instead. I walked back to the room it all took place to find the dad and his baby cuddling together. His eyes lit with amazement but also worry. Something that said I'm ready to be the best I can but I don't know what I'm doing so we will learn together. He looks up as I'm examining him. His face displayed a multitude of questions.

"Is my wife okay?" He suddenly stands up holding his baby.

I try to keep my emotions and expressions in check. "Yes. They're finishing up in the theatre, she's going to be okay." I lightly smile. He breathes a sigh of relief before sitting back down. "She lost quite a lot of blood today, we're going to keep a very close eye on her and the bleeding."

He nods his head, unable to speak. He keeps his watery eyes placed on me, looking for more reassurance that I'm not sure I can give. To change the pace in conversation, I walk over to take a look at the baby, to ask him questions and make a somewhat happy memory for him. 

"What's his name?" I ask gently, taking my hand and placing it by the baby's cheek.

"Max." He answers smiling. It brings a true smile to my face for the first time today.

"My little brother is called Max. It's one of the best names I think"

He breathes outwardly a sigh of happiness. "I agree." 

My pulse starts to increase as I continue to stare at baby Max. Is it just me that is seeing him turn blue? Is this my brain that is programmed to fear the worst at all times? Or is this the universe wanting me to go through everything traumatic? I quickly take the baby for his arms, realising how floppy he is now. Please God, if anything has to go wrong please don't let it be this. Don't take this baby's life away before it's even started. I rush over to the resusitare, pulling the emergency buzzer for the second time today. For the second time, the ward is plunged into despair. One midwife bursts through the doors as I'm setting up the face masks and suction. "Call a paed emergency now." She rushes out of the room before another swarm rushes in. Everyone gathers around the table, assisting me where they can. I'm trying my hardest, I swear I am but it's just not working. The inflation breaths aren't doing anything, even the suction in between. It feels like a lifetime but it's been only a minute. Before I can start anything else, the paediatrician barges in.

"Move." He demands and takes over my hands, pushing me out of the way. The urgency in the room gives me the bad kind of goosebumps and my legs feel weak. I look at the dad, standing in the corner of the room with his head in his hands. He's thinking, maybe even praying, he doesn't lose both of them in a day. I can only silently promise him I won't let that happen. Not again.