Helen smiles, beatifically, and asks for Betty to come in and sit with her as Barton stitches her up. It’s not quite so abrupt as all that; actually, it’s really milked for all its worth. There are plenty of stories to tell about Betty that don’t involve her domestic or romantic life.Plus, every television show I watch that’s even tangentially related to medicine has done a “C-section gone wrong!(At least Barton takes pains to point out that a husband would be excluded from the OR, too.) Bravely, Helen whispers, “Sweet Pea and I have everything under control.” Betty’s so frazzled she calls Bill for advice, which is saying something, since he’s not exactly a soothing presence.He tells her that C-sections are practically routine, and that he used to do two of them before lunch when he was still a practicing OB. And then, finally, Betty going to see her baby in the nursery, only to have Helen’s parents send a nurse to her, telling her she’s not allowed in.Oh, things start happily enough: Helen and Betty lying in bed together, debating whether the baby is going to be a boy or a girl. Once Barton (welcome back, Beau Bridges, though you deserve far better material than this) shows up at the hospital and starts assuring both Betty and Helen that everything’s going to be fine, you know it isn’t going to be.
(Legitimate question: Is this the first nice thing Bill has ever done for someone else? But this particular instance feels nonsensical and vaguely exploitative, especially when you consider the disproportionate rate at which lesbians are killed off on television.Instead, you spend the night with an employee […] You put your reputation and the reputation of the clinic at risk.” So, Bill can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants to, but Gini is the one putting their work at risk?