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A story written by STANLEY UMEZULIKE (PHONE: +2347060745771)

The midwife nurse, a dark young woman in her mid-forties arranged Samantha carefully on the bed. She hooked an I.V tube connected to a drip to her arm and attached the bedside fetal monitor to her belly. There was a second nurse. She was short and plumpy. She was inputting medical information on the computer of the fetal monitor. Soon the monitor began to show readings of the Samantha’s contractions and the baby’s heart rate. I greeted the doctor as I sat down on the armchair beside my wife’s bed. Doctor Philip is of average height, dark in complexion with a weather beaten face. Maybe he has worked under the tropical sun a lot.

“Hi.” I said as I looked at Samantha.

“Stay with me. I need you here.” Her voice was more of a whisper.

I held her hand and nodded. She forced a smile but I noticed that she was in so much pain.

Her stomach was so big. She appeared so heavy.

“I am here honey. You can do this.” I assured her.

“Alight, we are set,” said the doctor, “Madam, it’s time for you to push.”

The second nurse spread Samantha’s legs and the midwife nurse placed her hands on her big stomach. Samantha closed her eyes and pushed. The pain was clear on her face. In one hour’s time, she began to scream every five minutes.

“Don’t scream Madam, you are doing just fine,” said the doctor.

“You can do it, push!” said the midwife nurse.

Samantha pushed as she grunted in pain. The whole process continued for the next five hours. There was blood everywhere. I felt like fainting.

“Push!”

Samantha made a shrieking sound as she pushed long and hard. Her face was contorted in pain.

“Get her water.” The doctor said to the second nurse.

I looked at Samantha; she was getting weaker and weaker. Sometimes it would seem as if the baby was about to come out, then it would go back. She had tried the breathing excuses that the midwife nurse advised, yet the contractions continued to wear her down.

“Push!” said the doctor.

“I can’t,” said Samantha in tears.

“She doesn’t have enough strength. She is fading. We may need to do a C- section,” said the midwife nurse in a panicked voice.

Even with the air condition, sweat was all over their faces.

“It’s too risky. We won’t have that time,” said the doctor. “Her heart rate is failing.”

The monitor beeped at once and they all looked at the screen.

“There are changes in the baby’s heart rate,” the second nurse said in frantic voice.

“Foetal distress!” said the midwife.

“Her uterus is not contracting enough,” said the doctor, “Get syntocinon now!”

The midwife went to the table beside the bed and collected the drug. She injected the medicine into the drip connected to Samantha’s veins.

The midwife placed her hands on Samantha’s stomach carefully and massaged it. It was like she was trying to position the baby well.

“Please Sir, she needs some space,” said the midwife nurse.

I stood up and looked so worried. The doctor led me out of the delivery room.

“What is the problem doctor?”

The doctor was quiet for a moment. I looked at my time. It was now getting to 4pm.

“It’s a 50/50 chance of the baby surviving.”

“What?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“We are going to do everything we can. We may have to rely on faith this time,” he said as he patted me on the shoulder and went back inside.

I sat on the long chair thinking and waiting. I prayed so hard as I shot out all the fears in my mind.  

To Be Continued…

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