The Night Before Dawn
When Emilys contractions began, the clock showed quarter to three. The flat was dim and damp, the fine rain outside casting blurred reflections from the streetlights onto the pavement. James had been awake most of the night, fidgeting on the kitchen chair, checking the hospital bag by the door, peering out the window. Emily lay on her side, pressing a hand to her belly, counting the seconds between waves of painfirst seven minutes apart, then six and a half. She tried to recall the breathing technique from the videoinhale through the nose, exhale through the mouthbut her breaths came unevenly.
“Is it time?” James called from the hallway, his voice muffled through the half-closed bedroom door.
“Seems like it,” she said carefully, sitting up and feeling the cold floor beneath her bare feet. “The contractions are closer now.”
Theyd spent the last month preparing: a large navy-blue hospital bag packed with everything from the printed checklistpassport, NHS card, maternity notes, a spare nightdress, phone charger, even a chocolate bar “just in case.” Yet now, even that order felt fragile. James rummaged by the wardrobe, shuffling through folders.
“Passports here Insurance card Got it. Where are the maternity notes? Did you take them yesterday?” His words were quick and quiet, as if afraid to wake the neighbours.
Emily heaved herself up and made for the bathroomshe needed to wash her face at least. The room smelled of soap and slightly damp towels. In the mirror, a woman with dark circles and tangled hair stared back.
“Should we call a taxi now?” James called from the corridor.
“Yes Just double-check the bag.”
They were youngEmily twenty-seven, James just past thirty. He was a design engineer at the local factory; shed taught English at a secondary school before maternity leave. Their flat was smalla kitchen-living room and a bedroom overlooking the high street. Every corner spoke of change: a cot already assembled in the corner, stacks of baby blankets inside, a box of toys from friends nearby.
James booked a taxi on the appthe familiar yellow icon appeared almost instantly.
“Cars coming in ten minutes.”
He tried to sound calm, but his fingers trembled over the screen.
Emily pulled a hoodie over her nightdress, searching for her phone chargereighteen percent left. She stuffed the cable into her jacket pocket along with a face towel, just in case.
The hallway smelled of shoes and Jamess slightly damp coat, left to dry after yesterdays walk.
As they got ready, the contractions grew sharper, closer together. Emily avoided looking at the clockbetter to focus on breathing and the road ahead.
They stepped into the stairwell five minutes earlya dim bulb cast a pale glow by the lift, where a draft crept up from below. The stairs were cool; Emily tightened her jacket and clutched the folder of documents.
Outside, the air was damp and chill even for May. Rain trickled off the awning, and the few passersby hurried along, hoods pulled low.
Cars were parked haphazardly in the courtyard; somewhere in the distance, an engine rumbledsomeone warming up for a night shift. The taxi was already five minutes late, the dot on the map moving sluggishlythe driver weaving through side streets or avoiding some obstacle.
James checked his phone every thirty seconds.
“Says two minutes away, but hes going the long way round. Roadworks, maybe?”
Emily leaned against the railing, trying to relax her shoulders. She suddenly remembered the chocolatereaching into the side pocket of the bag to confirm it was there. A small thing, but comforting amid the chaos.
Finally, headlights appeareda white Ford slowed by the entrance, stopping neatly at the steps. The driver, a man in his forties with tired eyes and a short beard, stepped out, opening the rear door and helping Emily in with their things.
“Evening! Maternity hospital? Got it. Seatbelts on, please.”
His voice was brisk but calm, movements efficient. James climbed in beside Emily; the door shut with a thudinside smelled of fresh air and faint coffee from a thermos by the handbrake.
Leaving the estate, they hit a snaga road crew working under sparse lamplight, machinery flashing hazard lights. The driver turned up the satnav.
“Blimey Promised theyd finish by midnight! Well cut through the side streets.”
Then Emily remembered.
“Wait! The maternity notesI left them!”
James paled.
“Ill run back! Were close!”
The driver glanced in the mirror.
“Easy! How long? Ill waitplenty of time.”
James bolted out, splashing through puddles. Four minutes later, he returned breathlessnotes in hand, keys janglinghed left them in the lock and had to dash back up. The driver said nothing, just nodded when James settled back in.
“All good? On we go.”
Emily clutched the folder, a stronger contraction hittingshe breathed through gritted teeth. The car crawled past roadworks; through fogged glass, neon signs of late-night chemists blurred.
Silence filled the car, broken only by the satnavs rerouting and the heaters quiet hum.
After a while, the driver spoke.
“Got three kids myself. First one came at night toothough we walked to the hospital, snow up to our knees! Makes a good story now.” He smiled slightly.
“Dont fret too soon. Just keep hold of each others handsthats the main thing.”
For the first time in half an hour, Emily felt lighterhis calm tone steadied her better than any online advice. She glanced at Jameshe managed a faint, tense smile.
They reached the hospital just before five. The rain had eased to a lazy patter. James spotted the first pale streak of dawn. The driver pulled up where the puddles were fewesttwo ambulances stood nearby, but there was space.
“Here we are,” he said, turning. “Ill help with the bag.”
Emily straightened with difficulty, gripping the folder. James leapt out first, steadying her elbow. Another contraction hitshe paused, breathing slow. The driver hoisted the bag, stepping ahead.
“Mind the stepsslippery,” he said, his voice familiar with such moments yet never indifferent.
The entrance smelled of wet earth and antiseptic. Under the awning, raindrops splashed onto sleeves and cheeks. James looked aroundonly a nurse behind glass and two uniformed men further inside.
The driver set the bag down, then hesitated, suddenly awkward.
“Well Best of luck. Just remember each otherthe rest sorts itself out.”
James wanted to speak, but words stuck. Instead, he shook the mans hand firmly. Emily nodded, a flustered smile.
“Thank you Really.”
“Not at all,” he waved, already retreating. “Youll be grand!”
The hospital doors creaked opena nurse assessed them with a glance.
“Come in. Papers ready? Men cant enter unless its urgent.”
Emily handed over the folder. The bag was taken next. James stayed under the awning, rain drumming his hood unnoticed.
“Wait here. Well call if needed.”
Emily turned brieflythrough the glass, their eyes met. She gave a thumbs-up, a weak smile, then was led away.
Alone now, James checked his phonetwo percent left. Hed need to find a charger soon.
The taxi didnt leave immediatelythe driver fiddled inside, headlights on, then caught Jamess eye through the window. No words, just a silent understanding.
James raised a thumbgratitude, simple and human. The driver nodded, smiled wearily, and drove off.
As the car vanished, the street felt strangely empty. Only the drip of rain and the distant hum of the waking city remained.
James waited. Inside, Emily sat at reception, filling formsher face calmer now, the nights tension fading like the rain.
For the first time, he felt lightas if hed been holding his breath underwater and finally surfaced. Theyd made iton time, documents in hand, Emily safe. Ahead lay only a new morning.
The dawn sky turned pearly; the air smelled fresh after rain. James inhaled deeplyjust because.
For that moment, anything seemed possible.
Time dragged. He paced the hospital path, resisting the urge to check his dying phone.
An hour and a half later, it buzzedEmily.
“Congratulations, Dad. Its a boy8 pounds, 5 ounces. Were both fine.”
