I ask the nurse if I can have a few minutes with Louise and she agrees. I dash into the labour room, expecting to find Louise in a state in the throes of labour, but instead she is lying on her side in a bed, calmly scrolling through her phone.

“Are you OK,” I ask, concerned.

“Yes, in fact I’m even wondering why I am here. It doesn’t feel like it’s time,” she says.

“Well, the nurse seems to think so,” I point out. “Anyway, I need your boyfriend’s number. I need to make sure he’s informed.”

“I already called him,” Louise says. Of course. Why did I think she was incapable of doing it herself? “He’s on his way.”

I nod, and then sit down next to her and wait quietly for a few minutes. Suddenly, Louise winces.

“What’s wrong?” I jump out of my seat.

“I just feel, so… waaaaAAAAAAAHHHH!” she lets out the longest, hardest wail I have ever heard issue from a woman. “CALL THE NURSE LIIIIIZZZ, CALLL THE NURRRRSSSSEEEEE!!” she shouts.

I stand there helpless for a few seconds. Then Louise suddenly grabs my hand and squeezes my fingers so tight, I feel like she’s on a mission to make me feel as much pain as she is in. She draws her face right up close to mine and snarls, “I swear if you don’t get me someone to give me a painkiller I will kiiiiiiiIIIIIILLLLLLLLL YO-,”

Her threat is cut short by the entry of the nurse on duty. She surveys the scene and instantly comes to a conclusion.

“Right, it looks like active labour has started. We’ll need someone to hold her hand until her partner arrives. Thank you for being here. Help her breathe and if you need anything, just ring that bell.” Then she walks away.

“But this is an emergency, she needs medicine!” I yell after her. The nurse doesn’t respond. In the distance I can hear more yelling and cursing from other patients. I guess it must be a busy season for this section of the hospital.

I turn to Louise, who has slumped back in the bed, streams of sweat running down her face and a look of tense anxiety, as if she is afraid of the next wave of pain.

“OK then, looks like it’s just me and you. What did you say your guy’s number is again?”

“He’s called Steve,” she says between heavy breaths. “Just scroll through my phone you’ll see his number.” I do as she says and transfer his number to my phone to call, but before I can actually dial, Louise struggles to sit up, grabs my hand and starts screaming bloody murder again. I don’t know what to do but I stand there and absorb the pain her grip is causing me while I ineffectually rub her back and tell her to breathe steady.

“Gah! STOP telling me to breathe!” she yells. Then just as suddenly, the new wave of pain dies down and she slumps back on her side. “Have you called Steve?”

“How!? You were holding my hand so tight I couldn’t do anything!”

“Give me that phone,” she snarls, grabbing her phone out of my hand and dialing his number. “Get here right now!” she yells into the phone and then tosses it at me. The nurse comes back into the room.

“You’ve got to help us!” I plead, running towards her and grabbing her by her sleeve.

“Did she have another contraction while I was out?” I nod. She looks at her watch, and then consults the chart on the clipboard in her hand. “Right, it looks like they are starting to come quite close together. It’s time to take her to the delivery room. Let me get someone to wheel her in.”

“But wait! What do I do with her in the meantime!?” I ask, but once again, it’s too late. She’s walking out of the room.

I turn back to Louise. “OK, you just need to breath-,” Once more, I do not have a chance to finish that sentence as another contraction takes hold of Louise. Judging from the intensity of her scream, this one is harder than the last two. I stand there, helpless, wondering what I can do to ease her pain. But before I can think of anything, the nurse comes back with two more who promptly transfer her onto a wheeled bed and cart her off. I amble back into the waiting room to wait for Louise’s man.

Suddenly a familiar-looking man comes rushing into the room.

“Where is she??” he yells at no one in particular. Then he turns and spots me. He freezes. I freeze. We stare at each other. Our jaws drop. What is Steve, Fatma’s boyfriend, doing here in the maternity ward of the hospital? Could he be the ‘Steve’ who is also Louise’s baby daddy?

CREDIT LINK:  http://www.nation.co.ke/lifestyle/saturday/LIZZIES-WORLD-In-the-labour-ward/1216-3433470-wjywfj/index.html