She knew it was happening. She knew she was in labour.
Things were progressing so quickly. She began to panic. She started screaming for help.
But she was all alone. Trapped in one room. And there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
She was in pain, and likely confused. She was only thirty-six weeks along. Why was this happening? What was wrong?
Was the baby OK?
She screamed more. She screamed for help, and she screamed in pain.
But the baby was coming.
The young mother tried to remain calm, but we can presume she was terrified.
We can imagine she didn’t want to do this alone. She didn’t think she could do this alone.
But now, she didn’t have a choice.
She could feel the pressure tearing at her. This wasn’t going to take long. It wouldn’t be a twelve hour labour.
The baby wanted out; just like its mother did.
There was blood and fluid everywhere. The young mother was sobbing.
Please let my baby be OK.
And still no one came.
She was delivering a baby, by herself.
She had pressed the alarm. She had screeched for help until she was hoarse.