and, without warning, lifted up the skimpy pyjamas that Sabina was required to wear in the ward—as if she were looking under the lid of a pot. She roughly stabbed Sabina with her finger.
“Don’t push, you’re not dilated enough yet,” she growled, smacking Sabina on the knee, then dashing to the next patient.
Slut.
Don’t push? Sabina wasn’t pushing! That midwife should try this herself! Sabina fought hard against the contractions. She counted sheep, tiles, stains on the ceiling. But she was in pain. And pain is a terrible thing. Her head was spinning. How long was this going to last? How much time had she spent here already?
A trainee approached her. She was young and delicate, looking to Sabina like a geisha in a white kimono. Her small face twisted in an apologetic smile. She examined Sabina, peeking cautiously between her legs.
“You may push now, madam!” she whispered politely. She looked like she was going to bow. Sabina was irritated. She felt another contraction.
“I’ll fucking kill my husband!” she hissed straight into the young midwife’s ear, having grabbed her by the overalls.
“Please, calm down.” The girl might be delicate, but she was well prepared. She put her hand on Sabina’s forehead and pushed her back. “We’re pushing, Mrs. Sabina!”
And so Sabina tried. Tried to stop it somehow. Perhaps he wouldn’t be born? Perhaps he would disappear somewhere? Could he be absorbed, like a gelatinous cyst? No way. Two more contractions and she delivered a son. Quickly and efficiently. As every decent patient should do, without a big performance and without calling the doctor. Good Sabina.
“It’s a boy!” the nurse assisting her said with joy, momentarily walking away to wash the child and wrap him up. Sabina hoped she would drop him. He would fall and hit the edge of the sink with his head. And he would die. Or maybe he would drown. It wouldn’t last long—one choke would be enough. Or maybe something else would happen? The kid’s scream was ear-splitting. Perhaps it meant that he was ill and would die soon? But the midwife came back, carrying a small bundle.
“He has ten points on the Apgar scale, and huge lungs!” She laughed and passed the child to Sabina.
The baby’s face, as blue as a very rare steak, emerged from within the blanket. Exactly! It looked like a beef cutlet, with a flat nose and a junkie’s puffy, half-closed eyes. Tight fists. Open, toothless mouth. Sabina could swear the boy has a black palate, like a mad dog. He was crying like crazy. A crazy grub. He squirmed and kicked off the blanket.
“I don’t want him!” Sabina raised her hands in defensive gesture. “I don’t want—no, no, no!”
She was injected with morphine. And something to calm her. She was half awake, half asleep. The baby howled persistently somewhere in the distance. As if he knew that his mother didn’t want him. He was desperate. He screamed differently than other newborn babies. He didn’t want to be fed. He wanted her, Sabina. She felt beset. He wouldn’t let it go. From time to time the nurses came by and tried to convince her: “Take him!”
Sometimes they asked and sometimes they threatened her. Sabina didn’t give a shit about them.
They were smacking their lips and shaking their heads. What kind of a mother was she? What kind of woman? Sabina didn’t really care. He would stop howling eventually. He would shut up. It would be quiet. Finally.
10
Janusz—Keep The Child Safe
When Janusz came home late in the afternoon, he found Hanka so excited he could barely get her to talk.
“Mom went to the hospital. To give birth to the baby,” his daughter said. And that’s all she said. He shrugged. It was common for Hanka to react this way to strong emotions—talking to her made no sense in that moment.
It was already too late to visit Sabina. Janusz tried to tidy up the flat, then went to Agata’s parents’ to ask them if they could take care of Hanka while
“Don’t push, you’re not dilated enough yet,” she growled, smacking Sabina on the knee, then dashing to the next patient.
Slut.
Don’t push? Sabina wasn’t pushing! That midwife should try this herself! Sabina fought hard against the contractions. She counted sheep, tiles, stains on the ceiling. But she was in pain. And pain is a terrible thing. Her head was spinning. How long was this going to last? How much time had she spent here already?
A trainee approached her. She was young and delicate, looking to Sabina like a geisha in a white kimono. Her small face twisted in an apologetic smile. She examined Sabina, peeking cautiously between her legs.
“You may push now, madam!” she whispered politely. She looked like she was going to bow. Sabina was irritated. She felt another contraction.
“I’ll fucking kill my husband!” she hissed straight into the young midwife’s ear, having grabbed her by the overalls.
“Please, calm down.” The girl might be delicate, but she was well prepared. She put her hand on Sabina’s forehead and pushed her back. “We’re pushing, Mrs. Sabina!”
And so Sabina tried. Tried to stop it somehow. Perhaps he wouldn’t be born? Perhaps he would disappear somewhere? Could he be absorbed, like a gelatinous cyst? No way. Two more contractions and she delivered a son. Quickly and efficiently. As every decent patient should do, without a big performance and without calling the doctor. Good Sabina.
“It’s a boy!” the nurse assisting her said with joy, momentarily walking away to wash the child and wrap him up. Sabina hoped she would drop him. He would fall and hit the edge of the sink with his head. And he would die. Or maybe he would drown. It wouldn’t last long—one choke would be enough. Or maybe something else would happen? The kid’s scream was ear-splitting. Perhaps it meant that he was ill and would die soon? But the midwife came back, carrying a small bundle.
“He has ten points on the Apgar scale, and huge lungs!” She laughed and passed the child to Sabina.
The baby’s face, as blue as a very rare steak, emerged from within the blanket. Exactly! It looked like a beef cutlet, with a flat nose and a junkie’s puffy, half-closed eyes. Tight fists. Open, toothless mouth. Sabina could swear the boy has a black palate, like a mad dog. He was crying like crazy. A crazy grub. He squirmed and kicked off the blanket.
“I don’t want him!” Sabina raised her hands in defensive gesture. “I don’t want—no, no, no!”
She was injected with morphine. And something to calm her. She was half awake, half asleep. The baby howled persistently somewhere in the distance. As if he knew that his mother didn’t want him. He was desperate. He screamed differently than other newborn babies. He didn’t want to be fed. He wanted her, Sabina. She felt beset. He wouldn’t let it go. From time to time the nurses came by and tried to convince her: “Take him!”
Sometimes they asked and sometimes they threatened her. Sabina didn’t give a shit about them.
They were smacking their lips and shaking their heads. What kind of a mother was she? What kind of woman? Sabina didn’t really care. He would stop howling eventually. He would shut up. It would be quiet. Finally.
10
Janusz—Keep The Child Safe
When Janusz came home late in the afternoon, he found Hanka so excited he could barely get her to talk.
“Mom went to the hospital. To give birth to the baby,” his daughter said. And that’s all she said. He shrugged. It was common for Hanka to react this way to strong emotions—talking to her made no sense in that moment.
It was already too late to visit Sabina. Janusz tried to tidy up the flat, then went to Agata’s parents’ to ask them if they could take care of Hanka while
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