5November2025 Wednesday
I was pulling on my coat when the phone rang. It was my colleague Emily from the maternity unit.
Sarah, you promised to be here half an hour earlier today. Can you make it? she asked.
Of course, go on to the dentist, Im just about to leave, I replied, already hurrying down the corridor.
I burst out of the flat block and onto the street, only to find the whole pavement glazed with black ice after an overnight frost. I slipped a foot onto the slick surface and warned myself to take it slow as I headed for the bus stop.
Halfway down the block, the caretaker, John everyone called him John even though his full name is something like JonathanHawthorne was apologising to passersby.
Theres no sand, the delivery didnt arrive, he muttered, but the neighbours just laughed and said, No worries, John, well get through it.
The sidewalk was a slushy mess of mud and the remnants of a light snowfall. Early commuters had already turned the fresh snow into a greasy brown carpet. I marched on, thinking about whether to discharge the new mother from Ward5 or keep her a few days longer under observation.
Then, without warning, the ice gave way beneath me. I fell, and to get up I had to plunge my hands into the filthy slush. I glared at the muck spreading both ahead and behind, when suddenly someone lifted me by the arms.
Thank you, I said, turning to see a tall, smiling man.
No problem, but youll have to wash up when you get home.
Im in a rush, I cant go back yet.
Then best of luck at work, he called, turning onto the next street.
Back at the hospital I handed my soiled coat to the orderly, asking him to hang it up, and listened to the nurse on duty.
Everythings as usual. The oncall doctor is still here, keeping an eye on the new patient. Shes a nervous 18yearold whos decided to keep the baby. Her parents live up north, shes here with her aunt and will return home after delivery.
Which ward? I asked.
The seventh.
I sighed; the day was officially underway. I entered Ward7 and met the resident doctor, who briefed me and then left me to the patients room. The young woman was lying on the bed, turned toward the wall. I placed a hand on her shoulder; she turned, startled, and asked, Are you a doctor?
Yes, Im Sarah Mitchell. And you are?
Emily.
She was eager to speak. Ive decided Im going to give the baby up.
Is that your own decision or one made with your family?
Its a joint decision.
Does the father know?
No, not yet. I think he doesnt want a child.
You have a legal duty to tell him. A child isnt a toy. You have your own parents; why deny him the chance to love his child?
Im still young, I need to finish my studies.
You should have thought about this earlier. Every action carries responsibility. It isnt right to wash your hands of it. In the first days a newborn needs its mother like a plant needs water. I watched her, feeling a wave of panic building. Imagine youre sitting comfortably in a carriage and suddenly youre thrown out into the cold, naked. How would that feel? Youre an adult, youll find a way, but the baby is helpless and could die.
Youll help him! she shouted.
He needs you.
I dont want that.
You still have time to call his father. Dont fear childbirth; everything will be alright.
I squeezed her hand and gave a warm smile. In Emilys eyes I saw pain, confusion, a flicker of hope that perhaps her troubles would melt away like a winter frost.
The whole day my thoughts kept drifting back to her. Im thirtyfour now, and my own family plans have never materialised. I once had a boyfriend at university; we were set to marry until a drunk driver killed him in our final year. The grief lingered for years, and I convinced myself that moving on would betray his memory. Work consumed me, and as my peers settled down, I never met anyone suitable.
Sarah, dont spend all weekends at home; you might meet someone on a walk, my mother would say.
Mother, youre dreaming. He could be a scoundrel, Id reply.
Sometimes, while discharging patients, Id stand by my office window and watch husbands greet their wives. Tears would well up, and I longed to hold a baby in my arms, just like those women.
Now, standing at my own window, the sky was overcast and a wet snow was falling. By evening the frost would return, making the streets slick again. I remembered I still had to have my coat cleaned, so I headed to the staffroom where the changing rooms and the mess hall are.
The shift was uneventfulno emergencies. I decided to visit the young mother in Ward7 again. I learned she lived in a nearby town and had come here because, in a small community, everyone knows everyones business. She had time to weigh her options, but the father still needed to sign the consent form.
I realised I had previously avoided getting involved in such cases, yet Emilys situation tugged at my heart. I read her notes again, seeing the dilemma clearly.
When I left her room, I saw the aunt who had brought her ina silverhaired lady who explained shed taken her there because she was heading to the regional hospital for a checkup and didnt want her niece alone. I felt a kinship; I had once worked in the surgical unit, and they couldnt refuse me help then.
Emily was on the phone, trying to reach the father, but he didnt answer.
Should I just say I dont know who the father is? she whispered.
Youll give birth first, then see what happens. Any pain? I asked.
Nothing yet.
If it hurts, tell your sister; shell call a nurse.
Okay, she replied, managing a small smile.
I walked slowly back, wary of another slip. Inevitably I lost my footing again, this time twisting my knee. A woman behind me tried to help, but she wasnt strong enough. Suddenly, someone lifted me by the armpits and steadied me.
Thank you, I said.
Im James, he replied, waiting for my name.
Normally I wouldnt stop to chat with strangers, but after being rescued twice, I felt obliged. Maybe you need a doctors visit? I asked.
No, just a bruised knee.
Well then Ill walk you home.
James proved to be chatty. As we walked, he told me he works as a mechanical engineer at the steelworks, has a younger brother and a sister he looks after. My sister had a rough patch with a boyfriend and wont talk about it, he said, but Im older, so I try to help where I can.
He helped me up the stairs to my flat, introduced me to the landlady, MrsParker, who offered him tea. He declined, saying his children were waiting. MrsParker sighed, Good man, but already marriedwhat a pity. I corrected her, James isnt married; he just has siblings he supports.
MrsParker, still cleaning the kitchen table, kept on, When Im gone, youll be alone, dear. Apart from my sister Emma, whos only two years younger, youve got no one.
I tucked her in, Then keep going, love. Ill get some sleep; Im exhausted. Tomorrow I have to be up early for that little girl.
At six oclock in the morning I called the ward: Hows Emily in Ward7?
The labours started, youll have time for breakfast.
All morning I kept picturing James holding a baby in his arms, standing beside Emily. Have I fallen in love at my age? I wondered, watching his smile in my mind. I spent extra time in front of the mirror, admitting to myself that I wanted to see him again today.
When I arrived at the hospital lobby, two men were waiting. To my surprise, one was James. I walked over.
Good morning, can I help you? he asked.
How did you end up here? I replied.
I work here. Anything wrong with your sister?
My sister is twelve. I hope she doesnt follow the path of that fool and finishes university first.
Excuse me, I turned to Jamess brother, Victor, whats the problem with that fool?
He managed to get a child, now hides from the girl hes hurt. Shes called him twenty times today.
Victor tried to justify, Emilys planning to give up the baby.
Sarah Mitchell, get to the delivery suite, James said.
Emily was terrified, alternating between fear of death and anger at the man she thought might be the father. She saw a smug Vova in her mind, feeling pain that made it hard to concentrate and a rising fury toward him.
Wheres Sarah? someone asked. Why isnt she here?
Emily smiled weakly, Dont worry, itll be fine.
The day ended surprisingly quickly. A junior nurse showed Emily a newborn and whisked the baby to another ward.
Will you name him James? the nurse asked Victor.
Why? he replied.
As a thankyou for your care, she said. Emilys all right.
James looked at me, eyes bright, and grinned. Well ask Emily first; shes the one who gave birth.
A week later the whole family gathered around the tiny James, with his mother, and later they visited the Mitchell home where Linda, the everbusy aunt, was setting a festive table. She moved in temporarily to help Emily, whose aunt had been hospitalised. James often claimed hed be staying over a friends house, but everyone saw the joy on my face and the tenderness in his gaze.
They christened the child later, with me as godmother and James as godfather. Two months after, James and I married. The wedding was a huge relief for Linda; now her daughter had a stable, loving family, and she could look forward to grandchildren. Time, as they say, has its own rhythm.
