In a small house in St Albans, another mother was also gazing down at her baby daughter. Georgia watched anxiously as Rachel grunted and twitched in her sleep. She had kept them awake with crying most of the night. She had vomited up her morning feed and it had taken hours of rocking in Georgia’s arms to get her off afterwards. Now she was sleeping, but it seemed an unnatural sleep somehow. Georgia put out her hand and touched Rachel’s cheek. It felt hot.
Could she be getting teeth? At just under three months that was not likely, but it was not unknown either. Perhaps the room was too hot. The weather had turned warmer recently. Georgia went to the window and opened it a crack to allow the air to circulate without causing a draught. Then she went back to the cot and peeled back the covers. In doing so, she touched Rachel’s hand and was struck by how cold it felt. Burning hot cheeks and yet icy hands? That could not be the warmth of the room, could it?
Perhaps she should ring the doctor. They had talked about it before Nathan left for work that morning; but then Rachel had seemed more settled and they had concluded that they were being unduly anxious. They did not want to appear to be panicky parents overreacting at every minute change in their child’s behaviour. But what if it were something serious, after all?
Georgia’s breasts were swollen and uncomfortable, reminding her that it was time for Rachel’s next feed. She would see how that went and then decide. It was strange that she had not woken for it already. Perhaps she too was exhausted after last night.
Georgia bent down and picked up her daughter. Her body felt strangely stiff and her limbs jerked in a way that they never had before. Then she started crying, making a high-pitched screaming noise that Georgia could not remember her ever having made before. She held her against her chest, supporting her head with one hand and walked round the room trying to calm her by rocking.
Eventually the screams died down and became a strange gasping sobbing. Georgia sat down and prepared to feed her. Bra and blouse were both sodden and sticky with the milk that her body had produced in response to the cries of her infant. She brought Rachel’s mouth up to a nipple expecting her to latch on eagerly, as she usually did, but she showed no interest. Instead, she reverted to the high-pitched screams and jerky kicking of her legs.
Georgia was nearly in tears herself by now. She held Rachel to her and rocked rhythmically back and forth in the hope of calming her enough to take her feed. After what felt like hours, the screams subsided and the jerky movements of arms and legs died down into occasional twitching. Georgia ventured to offer the breast again and this time Rachel started to suck.
Not for long though. After only a few minutes, she released the nipple and she seemed to have fallen asleep. Desperate to relief her own discomfort as well as concerned for her child’s welfare, Georgia shook her in an attempt to wake her; but there was no response.
Georgia buttoned up her blouse and prepared to change Rachel’s nappy. Perhaps after that she would be ready for some more milk. The coldness of the plastic surface of the changing mat woke her and she started to cry again – not so loudly this time, but somehow all the more distressingly because of that. Georgia hurried to clean her and to fasten the fresh nappy, eager to return to the feed.
However, Rachel was still not interested. After a few half-hearted mouthfuls, she pulled her face away and refused to co-operate further. Georgia settled her back in her cot and stood looking down on her, an anxious frown on her face.
She made up her mind. She would ring the surgery and ask to speak to one of the GPs. Usually there was a doctor around for an hour or so after the morning surgery ended. She immediately felt better at the thought that she was doing something. She dialled the number and waited as it rang out. The receptionist took her details and then put her on hold while the doctor finished speaking to a patient on the other line. Georgia waited impatiently, walking round the room with her mobile phone to her ear. Then, at last, it was her turn.
‘What can I do for you, Mrs Porter?’ came a voice that betrayed a weariness beneath a tone of forced cheerfulness.
‘It’s my baby daughter, Rachel. I think she’s running a temperature and she’s not feeding very well.’
‘Ah yes! Let me see … she’s just coming up to three months now, isn’t she?’
‘Yes. That’s right.’
‘And how long has this been going on?’
‘Just today really. Well, she didn’t sleep very well overnight and then today …’
‘And this is your first baby, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. That’s right.’ Georgia paused and gave a nervous, self-deprecating laugh. Clearly, the doctor considered her to be a neurotic first-time mum. ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything really – just me getting paranoid.’
‘No, not at all. You’re bound to worry. Now, you said she has a temperature …?’
The doctor went through what Georgia took to be a checklist of questions before bringing the conversation to a close with instructions to continue to monitor Rachel’s symptoms, and to seek medical advice if any of a number of changes to her condition were to occur, but to endeavour not to worry unduly. Babies often had days when they were unsettled and reluctant to feed. It could well be a viral infection that she would throw off by herself within a matter of hours – a few days at most. If she did not want milk then try giving her water. So long as she was taking in sufficient fluids, there was probably nothing to worry about.
Georgia ended the call and put her phone away. She felt somewhat foolish. She should have realised that this sort of thing was just part of normal baby behaviour. Fancy bothering a busy, over-worked GP with her silly anxieties!