Until Autumn - Sheridan Anne Page 0,5
Dr. Mayson, the head is out. What next?”
“Is she breathing?”
My eyes widen. Why haven’t I already thought of that? November and Asher both freeze. This is probably a part of the job that the doctor wouldn’t usually say out loud as to not frighten the parents, but this is certainly a unique situation.
Not hearing her crying or being able to take her pulse in the usual way, I hover my hand over her mouth waiting to feel her breath. In the next second, a soft gasp comes tearing out of her little mouth, and I can’t help but laugh as the joy takes over me.
“Holy shit, that’s incredible,” I say, letting the emotion come over me as my eyes fill with tears of joy. “Yes, yes, she’s breathing. Now what?”
“That’s great news,” Dr. Mayson says as November and Asher share a proud smile. “I need you to check the baby’s neck. Make sure the umbilical cord isn’t wrapped around it. If you’re not sure, check again. Once you’re certain, you’re going to help the baby rotate to get her shoulders out.”
I nod, swallowing hard and concentrating with everything that I have, checking the neck and then checking it a second and third time. The baby finally rotates, and Dr. Mayson talks me through guiding the shoulders past the pelvic bone, and then finally, the rest of the baby. As she comes soaring out into the world, I’m drenched in amniotic fluid in the process, yet I can’t find it in me to be grossed out.
With tears in my eyes and joy overwhelming me, I hand the baby through November’s legs and place her daughter on her chest, just as they do in the movies.
The baby’s cries bounce off the mirrored walls of the elevator, and as I fall back on my ass, watching in amazement, I hear Dr. Mayson’s voice ring through the small space. “Good job, November. I’m standing just outside the elevator doors on level four. I have my whole team here to check you out. As for now, hold that precious little girl and hang tight. We’ll have those doors open in no time.”
And just like that, the call goes dead and a wide smile spreads across my face. How the hell did I get so lucky to have this life?
CHAPTER 2
THORNE
I stand with my team, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator doors on the fourth floor. Who does this girl think she is taking my patient from the ER and putting her into a dangerous situation like this?
Had she just left her downstairs, November would have been whisked away into one of the many private rooms and been able to give birth to her baby girl with the help of trained doctors instead of on the ground of a dirty elevator.
This is my family. She should have had better, and when this story is told every Christmas, it’s going to reflect poorly on me.
We have protocol and policies for a reason. I understand it was her first day and she saw November struggling and jumped right in to help, but doesn’t common sense come in somewhere? What if something had happened to that baby in the elevator? What if she was born and needed immediate medical attention? What if November bled out?
Situations like this cannot happen, especially when a patient’s life is in our hands. Despite this being her first day of training with me, she should have known better. After all, to get this far, she should have at least a few years of experience in nursing.
“Back-up generators are two minutes out,” a deep voice says behind me.
I nod, not bothering to look back. If I were to turn around right now, I’d end up yelling at some poor nurse or intern, and I’m already pissed enough. Rage burns through me the more I think about it, but as I stand at the still powerless doors, it’s impossible to think of anything else.
The second I can get in there and assess the damage, the better, but as soon as I know November and her baby are safe, I’ll be having a few words with that trainee. I hope she enjoys being on my shit list because that’s where she’s going to stay until she can prove to me that she deserves my respect.
“One minute,” the guy says, prompting my whole team to step closer to the elevator in preparation. There’s a shitload of work that needs to be done. November and her