BELONGING - BOOK 1

03. Bedside Manners

HALIMA

As I stood beside Mrs. Sarah's hospital bed, I couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy. Her voice, hoarse from hours of pleading, cracked with desperation. "Please, nurse, I want a boy. Just a boy. I've been trying for seven hours, and I can't take it anymore." The fluorescent lights above us hummed, casting an eerie glow on her exhausted face. The scent of antiseptic and sweat filled the air, a stark reminder of the labor room's sterile yet intense environment.

Mrs. Sarah's eyes, sunken from fatigue, locked onto mine, her gaze begging for reassurance. I recognized the fear and contemplation etched on her face - it was a look I'd seen before, on my own mother's face. The memories came flooding back, and I felt a surge of determination. I wouldn't give up on Mrs. Sarah, not like my father had given up on my mother.

The sound of beeping machines and muffled voices outside the room created a sense of urgency. Hannatu, my colleague and fellow NM, had already thrown in the towel, but I refused to surrender. I remembered the countless times my father had belittled my mother, calling her 'incapable' for not producing a male heir. The pain and helplessness I'd felt as a child still lingered, fueling my resolve to support Mrs. Sarah.

While I assessed her condition, I couldn't help but think of my own family's struggles. The sound of shattering glass, my father's angry shouts, and the feeling of walking on eggshells - it all came rushing back. But I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the woman before me. Mrs. Sarah's contractions intensified, her body tensing with each wave. I coached her through the pain, my voice calm and reassuring.

The hours ticked by, and still, no progress. But I wouldn't give up. My mind wandered back to my own childhood, where the sound of shattering glass and angry shouts had become a familiar serenade. My father's scarred face, once handsome and attractive, now seemed deceptive, hiding a soul capable of inflicting emotional pain. I remembered how my siblings and I would flee to our room, seeking refuge from the turmoil. I'd tell them stories, my voice a gentle whisper, as we lay in bed, trying to escape the chaos. Life was unfair, and I grew up to hate the man who made my life a living hell.

But I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on Mrs. Sarah's trembling hand. I tightened my grip, offering what little reassurance I could. 'I understand, ma'am, but we can't control the baby's gender. We need to focus on a safe delivery.' Her face contorted in despair, like a canvas of pain. "But my husband will leave me if it's a girl. He only wants a son." I felt a surge of empathy, knowing the weight of her words. The beeping machines and muffled voices outside seemed to fade into the background as I locked eyes with hers. "We'll get through this, Mrs. Sarah. Your baby's health is what matters now."

As I spoke, I couldn't help but think of my own experiences, how my father's behavior had left me insecure in my relationships. The attractive men I'd encountered, with their charming smiles and deceiving good looks, had never quite measured up. I wondered if Mrs. Sarah, too, had fallen prey to the allure of physical appearance, only to discover the ugliness within.

As the contractions intensified, I guided Mrs. Sarah through the stormy waters of labor, coaching her through breathing exercises and positioning changes. Her cries grew louder, screams echoing through the delivery room, as her body tensed with each push. I could feel her pain, her fear, her desperation. The scent of sweat and antiseptic filled the air, a pungent reminder of the intense moment unfolding before us.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the baby crowned. I gently guided the head out, my hands moving with precision and care. With one last push, the baby emerged, its tiny body slipping into the world. I clamped and cut the cord, the sound of the scissors slicing through the silence. "It's a...,' I paused, a smile spreading across my face like a sunrise. "It's a beautiful baby girl."