Chapter 1

Dr. Martin had been on call all night.

He had delivered two babies during this shift, and was hurrying down the hall of the maternity ward to another delivery.

His balding head glistened with sweat, and his lab coat and shirt were rumpled with the night's efforts.

They don't pay me enough to do this, he thought.

The room he was heading for was 105. He was late as it was, but the mother had so far only begun the preliminary stages of her contractions, that could very likely continue for the entire night.

He was just supposed to poke his head in and make sure everything was all right. The nurse would page him when the serious contractions started, or when her water broke, whichever came first.

He quickly grabbed the chart that was in a small black plastic bucket outside the room. He familiarized himself with her name and situation, so it would seem like she was important, and not like the thousands of other faceless patients that walked through this ward.

THANE, MARTHA, 32 YEARS. GESTATION: NINE MONTHS EIGHT DAYS.

Dr. Martin pushed his way through the door, fixing his professional smile on his face.

He hated delivering babies. Modernly it was becoming a job occupied by female doctors, but he was a relic of the seventies, when female doctors were in all honesty, considered little more than a passing experiment.

"Hello Mrs. Thane, how are we feeling?" Doctor Martin asked, fixing his eyes on the bleach blonde lady lying prone on the bed.

Martha Thane looked like hell. But then again, in Doctor Martin's experience, most women did not look their best this close to birth.

Her long hair was disheveled, and her eyes were blood shot. Her greatly distended belly looked like a beach ball ... yet still she managed a weak smile.

"I've been better doctor," she said.

Martin gave another of his patronizing smiles. "Yes I imagine so."

"When do you think we'll get this show on the road," she asked wearily.

"Oh, I imagine any hour now. The fact that the contractions have lasted most of the day are a pretty good indicator that this is no false alarm." He said reassuringly.

She nodded and settled her head back down into the pillows. She sighed.

"This little guy is causing me much more problems than his big sister," she said warmly. "I wonder if that means he'll be a little trouble maker."

She absently stroked her stomach, a faraway look in her emerald eyes.

Doctor Martin felt a small pang. He was sixty seven years old, and never once had children.

On the outside he smiled. "I'll be back in about an hour, hold on their Mrs. Thane, I'll see you through the night."

Dr. Martin left the room.

The page came at two twenty three in the morning, December 1st.

Dr. Martin was passed out in the faculty break room, a Styrofoam cup of coffee balanced in the crook of his arm.

The page startled him, and he almost spilled the drink. It was room 105. Mrs. Thane's water had finally broken. He was tired, but adrenaline fueled him.

Dr. Martin was across the hall in record time, and immediately took charge of the situation.

When water breaks after prolonged contractions, instead of before, it is usually a sign of a speedy yet violent birth.

Martha didn't disappoint. She began labor almost immediately. It was a difficult birth, and it lasted for about thirty minutes.

Dr. Martin had to turn the child around in order to get him head first down Martha's vaginal cavity.

Martha, however, acted like a pro. She pushed at the right times and she preformed her breathing exercises flawlessly.

There was no vaginal tearing, and little blood. She thankfully also didn't soil herself, as is common during birth, nor did she begin to urinate, which is also very difficult to do.