A birth

“Heartbeat is below 70 and dropping. Fluttering. This is serious. I need help. Now!”

“You need to push and you need to push now. If you don’t, your baby…. your baby won’t make it.”

“I. Can’t. Just cut her out. Just. Cut. Her. Out”.

“You’re too far along.”

“Drugs. Any drugs. I can’t!”

“I can’t give you anything. I’m sorry, it’s too dangerous. She’s close, so close. But her heart. Her heart is dangerously, dangerously low. You can do it. You are strong. Push.”

“What’s going on. I can’t lose them. I need them both. We have a baby at home too, I can’t go home without them. I need them. I need them.”

“We need the infant re-suss team here now. And get the other obstetrician here. Wake him up. Now. Now! And the chopper, life flight. One of them. On standby.”

“Push. You can do to. You can. You are strong. Even if there’s no contractions. Push. Push until I tell you to stop.”

“You can do it babe. You can. I love you.”

“I’m sorry you can’t come in. You need to wait outside. Only her husband can come in. I know you’re her Mum but I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“The kit is here. Set up. Ready for re-suss. Dr is walking through front door. We are……”

“Yes! Yes! She’s ok, she’s here. You’re ok. You did it. I’m so proud. Look Daddy, she did it! Congratulations! Every thing is ok. Tihei wa Mauri ora, welcome little one.”

(Inspiration: http://wp.me/p23sd-13YX Triumph prompt, and the birth of my second child retold in the snippets of conversations I remember)

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