The antiseptic filled air was tarrying around the mask of the doctors, not into the nose of her, she was heaving heavily, having the epidural to suppress all her pain. Screams of her promulgated the room, the doctors did not frantic as they were rehearsed a couple hundred times.
Her husband was not in, a nurse proffered his hand to her as a gripping device, to release all the tension of labour, to deviate the remnants of pain into the hand. Blood was profused out of the bottom, it was not a good sign, her blood pressure was dropping drastically, the agitated beeping of the machine signaled the doctors about her life.
Half of her feet was at the mercy of death. The pain was unbearable even with the epidural, the muscles of her womb were contracting and relaxing at the count of the doctor. PUSH! she shouted in accordance to the push exerted in her belly. Blood was splattered all over the floor beneath the bed.
She was losing conscience, too much blood, too much energy. The doctors desist the idea of cutting open her belly to receive the baby, too risky, it was too late, if done, both might face death right in the face. The sodden masks of the doctors were orchestrated with the intensity of a life-or-death situation.
PUSH! Just one word, a command, a simple and direct one. She pushed, rested, pushed, muttered a few prayers under her breath, pushed, shouted in pain. PUSHHH!!! The doctors accentuated the tone, she gave every ounce of energy into contracting and relaxing every fibre of muscle to labour.
The doctors saw the head, ONE MORE PUSH!!!
ARGHHH!!! The cry of the new life rushed into the room, another splendid delivery involving a bloodbath. Both were safe, with de novo force of life, a mother and son was miraculously borned in flesh, into the realm of reality.