The ringing phone wakes me up from a deep sleep. She, breathing heavily, reports contractions and not sure if she should come in. I encouraged water, rest, and if the “ganas” keep coming, that I would be here to check on she and her baby when they arrived. I laid back down, thinking I had another hour of sleep.
Within the hour, the ringing phone wakes me again, this time the nurse, breathing heavily, listing three women arriving in triage at the same time, for rule out labor, two of them breathing heavily, one of them leaking fluid all over the floor.
Within the next minute, I went to the bedside of the woman’s whose voice I heard on the phone, realizing we did not have much time left before a birthday celebration.
Within the next five minutes, she was in a labor room, changing smiles to focused grimaces, her bag of water bathing me in warmth and urgency.
With the next minute, she pushed and welcomed her wriggling baby with patience and strength.
Her husband silent in the corner. The metro loud and vibrating just beneath us. The nurse encouraging and kind.