Now the day bleeds, into nightfall

I let my guard down

Thursday 24th May 1990

'Come on Ange, one last push.'

'I can't' the teenager cries, feeling like she's being split in two. 'I can't do this.' She's full on sobbing now, the gas and air feel like it's stopped working now. She knew it would be painful, she had forgotten how painful though. She just wants it to stop, she'll do anything to make it stop.

'Ange, I promise it's one more.' This wasn't the plan, she wasn't supposed to be early. Her mum was supposed to be back from her trip to London. She wasn't supposed to be alone, yet she is. Like she has been the whole pregnancy, like she had been for the last few years. She's destined to be alone. Baring down, she does what she's told. She lost track of how many people are in the room, and who is who, there are a number of different people. Going into labour at thirty-three weeks wasn't the plan, if the baby survives the birth she is going straight to the neonatal intensive care. She will be all alone, until Ange is allowed up. That's if she makes it up, she knew the facts from when she had her boy. Thirty-three weeks isn't good even she, the worlds crappiest mother, new that.

Suddenly, it's over. She feels the body slip out of her, silent. She closes her eyes and suddenly everyone leaps into action, yet she knows what is going to happen. She knows she isn't going to come out of this with a live baby.

She failed, yet again, as a mother. She couldn't deliver a healthy baby, she killed her child. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to hide the tears about to fall.

'Ange, you have a girl.' That's when the sob decides to let go.

'Is she alive?' She, eventually, manages to choke out, scared of what the answer might be, 'My wee girl?'

'She is, she's going to be taken to NICU but she's in the best place possible. We are going to deliver the placenta.'

'I don't want her to be alone.' She sobs, 'please don't let her die on her own.'

'Hey, no one is talking about dying. I promise, once you've delivered the placenta, and you are stitched up, I'll take you up to NICU myself.'

'I don't want her to be alone.'

'I'll bring you up straight after.'

'I want to go with her, she can't be alone. She's only little.'

'Jess.' Ruth the midwife calls, a younger woman comes out of the crowd, she looks like she is barely out of nursing school. 'Will you go and stay with the baby, it doesn't seem like we are going to get anywhere with Ange if the baby is alone.'

'Sure.'

'See, Jess will be with her. '

'Thank you.' She whispers, bracing herself for her last part of the delivery. To Ange, it seems like years for the placenta to be delivered. She just wants to get on and see the baby, before she dies.

'What if I don't love her?'

'You will.'

'What if I don't?' She rubs her hands over her face. 'With my boy, I gave him up. What if I don't love her?'

'Why did you give him up?'

'Because I couldn't give him the life he deserved.' She answers truthfully, almost ashamed to admit it.

'Then you are already a good mum.' Ange shakes her head.

'No, this is different. What if I don't love her. With my boy, I liked his dad. With her, it was rape and I was too much of a coward to have an abortion. What if I can't look at her the same.' Ruth stops the wheelchair, coming around to Ange's front.