Page 52 of Christmas at the Movies
‘Good girl,’ said the midwife. ‘You’re crowning – I just need you to give me one more big push.’
‘I can’t,’ cried Sarah.
‘You can,’ said James, pushing sweaty hair off her face.
Another contraction seized her. Sarah gripped her husband’s hand and pushed as hard as she could. Then came the most wonderful sound she had ever heard – the reedy cry of a newborn.
‘Congratulations, Mum,’ said Angelica, smiling. ‘You have a little girl.’
James cut the umbilical cord, then the midwife whisked the baby off to an examining table to check her over.
‘Is she OK?’ asked Sarah, watching woozily. The baby’s eyes were scrunched shut, her face was red, and she was covered in white goo; she was so beautiful, it made Sarah feel light-headed. Her husband and midwife undulated before her in hazy waves. None of the books had mentioned this …
‘She’s absolutely perfect,’ said Angelica, beaming. She wrapped the baby in a blanket. ‘Nine pounds, three ounces – no wonder you had such a job getting her out.’
The midwife handed James the baby and checked on Sarah again. Suddenly, her smiling face became serious. She pressed an alarm bell.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked James, cradling the baby.
‘Sarah is losing a lot of blood,’ said Angelica.
They sounded miles away. Sarah tried to tell James she was fine but couldn’t seem to make her mouth work. She felt like she was floating.
A doctor came running in and helped Angelica set up an IV drip.
‘What are you doing?’ asked James.
‘It’s oxytocin,’ explained the midwife as she massaged Sarah’s uterus. ‘It will help the uterus contract and stop the postpartum haemorrhaging.’
The last thing Sarah remembered, before she passed out, was someone putting an oxygen mask over her face.
When Sarah opened her eyes a few hours later, she found herself in a sunny hospital room.
James stood by Sarah’s side, cradling a little bundle in his arms. ‘Your mummy’s awake,’ he crooned to the baby.
‘I thought we were going to lose her,’ said Sarah, reaching for her daughter.
‘I thought we were going to loseyou,’ James said, placing their baby in her arms. ‘You both gave me quite a scare.’
The baby let out a cry and flailed her little fists. There was a plastic bracelet around one of them which readDaughter of Sarah O’Hara, 1/12/07.
‘I think she’s telling us that she’s a fighter.’ James smiled at Sarah. ‘Just like her mama.’
Sarah stroked her daughter’s soft cheek and the baby’s blue eyes blinked at her. ‘Hello, little stranger,’ she whispered to the tiny bundle in her arms.
Sarah placed her daughter on her breast. The baby rooted around, until her tiny rosebud mouth clamped instinctivelyaround her nipple, and she began to drink her first precious drops of milk.
‘She’s got your eyes,’ Sarah said, stroking the baby’s dark tufts. She could not stop staring in amazement at her perfect daughter. ‘And your nose.’
James perched gently on the edge of the bed. He stroked the baby’s tiny nose. ‘Hey, give me my nose back.’
Angelica, the midwife, came in to check on them. ‘How are you feeling, Mum?’
Sarah felt sore all over, her hair was matted and sweaty from the exertions of labour, her swollen stomach still looked pregnant, and she was on a drip.
‘So, so happy,’ she said.
The baby stopped feeding, so Sarah placed her gently over her shoulder and rubbed her back until the baby let out a tiny burp.
