Delivery in the Dark

"Oh Jesus, Salamat Lord Jesus", the woman breathed as yet another contraction subsided. I rubbed her back and listened to the booming thunder and pounding rain outside. Every few minutes blinding lightening flashed across the black night sky. Within a minute, the panting woman broke into another fervent, mumbled prayer as the next contraction engulfed her. They were getting a lot more intense very fast. I examined the baby's heart-rate graph and wondered absent-mindedly what they would do if there ever was a labor and the power went out. No sooner had the thought left my mind than the lights flickered and went out.

1 hour later: sweat trickled slowly and elusively down my back and dripped off my elbow and the end of my nose. I desperately wanted to wipe my face, but I knew I couldn't move from my position beside the midwife. I tried to hold the flashlight as steadily as I could while she sutured the woman's perineum. The power had already been out for ten minutes and the room was suffocatingly hot without the electric fans. It was the second time the power had gone out actually; miraculously, it had snapped on just long enough for the baby to be born; but now the most difficult part was before us, and we had nothing but a thin flashlight to work with. Outside the storm had moved on, and left an eerie calm. A dog barked somewhere, but the rest of the city seemed to be asleep.

All at once, without even a warning flicker, the flashlight died. We were silent for a moment, the midwife in mid-stich.
"Dear Lord Jesus, give me patience," she breathed. And that was our only flashlight.
I carefully put down the sterile gauze I was holding and fished around in the deep pocket of my scrubs for my cell phone. Retrieving it, I turned on the tiny light at the end, and grabbed an extra candle from behind me. Together they made just enough light to distinguish the thread and shiny curved needle. I wrapped one arm around the woman's leg and adjusted my position so the light was as close as possible.
"Is that okay?" I asked, as cheerfully as possible.
The midwife squinted, bit her lip, and went back to work.

Well, we finished the whole kaboodle with that skinny little candle and the light from my cellphone. Certainly not ideal working conditions, but it did add a little excitement to our night. Just as we were tying off, the lights popped back on. Go figure. The midwife inspected her work.
"Not bad", I told her, giving her a pat on the back. She would proceed to drive to seven different pharmacies that night, searching for a medication the baby needed to protect it from the Hep B virus the mother was carrying. I confess I spent the rest of the night sound asleep. I didn't feel too bad about that, though. I felt like I'd done a good night's work.

P.S. After that night, the guard went out and bought a very large and reliable heavy-duty flashlight.

love,
Amberkay