A Southern Star (30 page)

“When does your mother arrive?” Blake asked, listening to Christie’s reply, asking for flight details. “The airport’s just down the road, I’ll meet her, bring her here.” Sudden panic filled Christie; she found it impossible to maintain a façade.

“Could you stay, please, Blake?” she muttered.
 

“I’m sure Brenda will be here soon, but I can stay for as long as you need me,” he said neutrally.
 

Christie tensed at his impersonal tone, swallowed hard. “Could you stay, please, Blake?” she repeated nervously, her heart pounding.
 

Unable to believe what he was hearing he stood back, watching her. Christie glanced at him, hesitating, tensing, as the ache intensified. “Apparently, you need to breathe through those,” Blake said, his eyes unreadable as he covered his confusion with a flippant comment, before remembering her distress. “I can stay, Christie,” he said quietly. “Just let me know what I can do, or if you want me out of the way.” A thought struck him. “Is your mother on the plane already, do you want to call her, call your family?” The unspoken possibility of calling Paul hung between them; Blake wondered what the current situation was.

Christie looked at him, realising she should probably try and warn her mother, suggest she get a taxi. Blake’s voice was definite as he again insisted on arranging for her mother to be collected. Christie subsided as she made the call, tearing up as she heard her mother’s voice, strong, reassuring, emphasising to Christie she was just arriving at Sydney airport, would land in Queenstown in only a few hours, asking who was with her.
 

“Just a friend,” Christie said. Blake heard her words, tensed. Tentatively, not wanting to upset her, Blake asked her whether she wanted to call Paul. Christie shook her head, definite, bluntly telling Blake she had had no further contact with Paul. Blake kept talking, making small talk, sensing Christie needed to take her mind off the contractions, which seemed intermittent but increasing in intensity. His eyes narrowed as Christie tensed, obviously gripped by another contraction. Concerned, he moved towards her, sat on the edge of the bed.

He said her name; Christie looked across at him, her eyes huge. “Take my hand when there’s a contraction,” Blake said calmly. “Put the pressure on my hand if you need to.” Christie said nothing, but he noticed she seemed calmer, not as tense during the next contraction, kept her hand close to his although she did not take it.

He was still sitting there, making the occasional comment, moving only to help Christie get more comfortable, when Brenda and Lisa burst in. Blake saw both of them hesitate, smiling.
 

“Christie, I’m so sorry, I’m hopeless, I never remember to keep my phone with me, it always goes flat,” Brenda spoke quickly, apologetically.
 

Lisa spoke jokingly at the same time as her mother. “And so she borrows mine. The bill always gives it away.”
 

Brenda kept talking, ignoring Lisa’s comment. “The landline was off the hook, the worst possible timing…”
 

Brenda moved closer, her warmth and support obvious. Christie made minimal responses, hearing Brenda only distantly as she focused solely on the baby. Christie fell silent as a strong contraction washed over her, her hand moving to grip Blake’s hand as she tried to concentrate. As the pain intensified, she was conscious of Blake remaining at her side, his silent, calm presence reassuring her. She could hear Brenda and Lisa talking in the distance, Lisa saying goodbye, heading off to work.

Then, Blake and Brenda talking.
They’re getting on well,
Christie thought,
much better…
Another contraction lanced through her; she instantly forgot her thought. Gasping,
 

Christie tried to get comfortable, still holding Blake’s hand tightly, hearing his voice, his supportive tone calming her, joined by Brenda, her warm tone reminding Christie of her own mother.

The midwife came in, accompanied by the doctor. Beyond embarrassment, Christie did not release Blake’s hand, willing him to stay as the sharp pain was replaced by a dull ache. Blake realised she had not released his hand, frowned, wondering if she wanted him to stay, even for the examination. Taking a deep breath he leaned down closer to her, offered to stay, carefully reminded Christie that Brenda could also stay.

Christie’s grip on his hand only became tighter; Blake’s face set as he realised her pain level was increasing. Putting aside his concern about whether Christie wanted him to stay or not, Blake turned to the doctor, the midwife, concisely checking progress, asking about pain relief. His eyes narrowed as he listened to the doctor suggest options, realised these were the same options Christie had discussed with him earlier.

Recalling what she had said, Blake checked his understanding of the epidural procedure, asked the doctor further questions about the strength of the dosage, making an instant decision as he heard the doctor’s advice. “Christie mentioned that as an option, I want that for her,” he said, his tone uncompromising. “As soon as possible. And I’ll stay with her for it,” he added, looking at Brenda. Brenda shook her head slightly, signalling she would not stay. Blake shrugged as he heard the doctor talk about the hospital policy, determined to stay with Christie through the procedure, whatever the doctor said.

Through the waves of pain Christie could hear Blake’s strong voice, talking to the doctor, asking the questions she wanted to ask, arranging the pain relief she longed for. She realised the doctor was preparing to examine her, that another contraction was building. Incredulously, Christie heard Blake ask the doctor to wait until her contraction had eased before starting the examination.
 

“Of course,” the doctor agreed instantly.
Where did Blake learn that one?
Christie thought hysterically, trying to take her mind off the pain. “Christie, your labour is going well. A bit too well, your baby’s keen to arrive.” The doctor was talking to her; Christie made a sound of acknowledgment, trying to concentrate on what the doctor was saying as the doctor explained the epidural procedure again, the tapering dose Blake had wanted for her.
 

Christie nodded, trying to find the words to tell the doctor Blake could make decisions for her, realising he had remembered their earlier discussion despite his apparently casual approach. She tried to speak, only managing an urgent whisper that the doctor had to lean down to hear.

— # —

The epidural had made the pain recede; Christie looked around, not seeing Brenda, only hearing Blake’s voice as he talked to the doctor. She heard a ringing, a buzzing sound, realised it was her mobile phone, reached for it ineffectively, feeling strangely detached. Blake was at her side immediately, picked up the mobile from the top of the bedside cabinet, handed it to her.

“Mum?” she said, hearing her mother’s voice, a sudden wave of fear overwhelming her as her mother started to explain her plane to Queenstown was delayed because of fog, calmly emphasising she would be there as soon as she could. “Of course, Mum,” Christie replied, not wanting to let her mother know how upset she was, making a huge effort to talk normally. “No worries, I’ll see you soon.” Her mother was silent for a moment, then casually asked who was with Christie. “Still the friend from before, Mum,” Christie replied, wondering why she was asking again.
 

“Just put them on for a moment,” her mother insisted.
 

“No need, Mum, I’m fine. Still in the early stages anyway,” she lied, dully noticing the questioning look on Blake’s face.

“Christie,” her mother said firmly.
Maybe I should put her onto Blake after all,
Christie thought, hysteria welling up again.
They can both say my name in the same tone.
She was saved the trouble by Blake, who gently disengaged the phone from her hand, put it to his ear while walking away from the bed.

Christie watched him walk away, her eyes sparking, her emotions seesawing as she dealt with her disappointment about the delay of her mother’s plane, her anger at Blake taking over, interrupting the call.
The baby
, she thought.
I have to focus on the baby.

Now that the pain had eased, Christie started feeling stronger but still strangely detached, unable to gauge the passage of time. She tried to remember what the doctor had said about the timeframe, the stage she was at.
The baby will be born soon,
she thought.
My baby. Our baby.
An image of Paul floated into her mind; she blocked it out. Crowding at the edge of her mind was the plane delay; disappointment and fear welled up in her.

Suddenly, Christie started to panic, automatically looked around for Blake. Tears came to her eyes as the enormity of having a baby flashed into her mind. She was conscious of Blake back at her side. “I’ve spoken to your mum—” he paused, “—and she’s hoping to board soon. An announcement came over while she was on the phone.” He explained he had called Queenstown airport, confirmed that the fog was predicted to lift shortly, would call again for an update, arrange to have Christie’s mother met when she landed.

“I don’t want to worry her,” Christie said hesitantly.
 

“She’s not,” Blake spoke definitely. “She’s had you, she understands. I’ve explained you’re doing well and her grandchild will probably be waiting here to welcome her.” Christie fell silent; immediately, he realised she was struggling emotionally. His heart clenched. “I’ll just sit here for a moment,” he said casually, not directly referring to her emotional state. Christie did not reply; he sensed her relax slightly.

Blake stayed close to her, continued to make occasional comments, not expecting a reply. Eventually, he moved to the edge of the bed, losing track of time as he focused on supporting Christie. The doctor returned, examined Christie again. Blake realised the baby would be born imminently, placed his hand briefly, reassuringly, on Christie’s shoulder. She looked up at him; he was struck by the determination in her eyes. “Nearly there,” Blake said, continuing to encourage Christie, feeling strangely helpless, knowing that she probably had not heard him, so fierce was her concentration.
 

 
Tears of joy, of relief, rushed to Christie’s eyes as she heard the doctor’s announcement, saw the newborn baby the doctor was holding, watching the features of the baby’s face, the minute, perfect hands, the chubby legs kicking as the baby gave a cry, took several hiccuping breaths.

Chapter Fifteen

“A girl,” Christie repeated the doctor’s words, her heart filling as she realised she had a daughter, listening as the medical staff briefly checked the baby, placed her on Christie’s stomach. She looked down at her daughter, overcome by the reality of seeing her baby, knowing she had given birth.

“Congratulations, Christie.” She distantly heard Blake’s words, still caught up in looking at her baby, entranced, reaching to stroke the tiny cheek with her fingers. Christie’s mouth curved into a smile as she heard the indignant wailing of her child, watched her tiny arms and hands move, saw the umbilical cord still pulsing as the doctor waited for the placenta to emerge. The doctor asked Christie whether she wanted her baby to stay with her for now, mentioned further checks, bathing the baby.
 

Still in a haze of delight, Christie started to speak, reluctant to leave the baby. She heard Blake’s voice joining hers, smiled faintly to herself as she heard Blake’s barrage of practical questions, a pang of regret going through her as she thought of the symbolism of the baby’s umbilical cord being cut.
Lots of babies have their cord cut by the doctor,
Christie reasoned silently.
And I can hardly ask Blake to do something like that…
She struggled for composure as she momentarily thought of Paul, of his complete lack of support or interest.

“Christie, what is it?” The doctor moved towards her.
 

“Can you cut the cord as soon as possible?” Christie muttered, not wanting to torture herself with images of Blake, of Paul, of what might have been.
 

The doctor looked at her perceptively, turned to Blake. “I just need to do a few checks, could you wait outside for a moment, please. They won’t take long.”
 

Blake hesitated, thinking back to the books he had read. Seeing animals being born as a child had not prepared him for the emotional onslaught of seeing Christie give birth; he wanted to stay with her to ensure she was thoroughly monitored for complications, concerned by the gruelling labour and birth process. He could tell the doctor had been surprised by his previous questions about the placenta, his detailed questions about Christie’s condition, her recovery.

Blake shrugged to himself, knowing his first priority had to be Christie. And her baby, alert, healthy despite her tiny features, part of Christie. He had listened as the doctor checked the baby’s responses, completed basic checks, half hoping Christie would let him hold the infant, knowing it was unrealistic, wanting nonetheless to spend time with a baby that was so strangely captivating.

“Of course,” he said now. “But is Christie all right? Because—”
 

The doctor quickly reassured him, watched as he left the room, looked back at Christie, her eyebrows raised slightly. “There’s no real hurry, Christie. In fact, it’s probably a good idea for some of the cord blood to transfer to Isla. And of course now you have a support person here, your original plan could change. Sometimes, as we discussed when we first went through your birth plan, the support person could cut the cord. Is that something you and Blake have talked about? I just need to briefly record some notes, so have a think about what you want.”