God.

I slide down the wall, and rub my eyes, sighing.

Jesus, what do I do now.

Soooo tired.

I blink myself awake.

Pull yourself together Nina!

I had done six straight caeserians, and we'd almost lost the baby on the last one. I'm exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally. I glance at my phone, 2:07AM.

Remind me again why this is your job, Nina?

Because I enjoy it! And I'm good at it, even if my stiches aren't as good Clegg's...

Maybe you'd be less tired and stressed if you weren't doing caeserians at 2 in the morning.

Oh, shut up!

I stand, wobble a bit, before pulling myself together enough to walk to the car park. When I reach the car, I open the door, and just sit for a while, leaning back, with my eyes shut. Then I start the car.

It groans, splutters, then conks out.

"FUCK! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" I yell, wacking steering wheel, "fuck it, fuck it, fuck it."

I lean back, and put my head in my hands, what are you doing Nina?

I sigh, and try again, it doesn't work.

"Shit," I say through my teeth.

Sorry for all the swearing baby. I promise to do it a bit less when your born.

My baby sits on the floor of the living room, Patrick and I looking down at it.

'Mama, fuck,' it says.

Patrick and I look at each other.

I shake myself, not useful now Nina! Stop imagining swearing babies, and start thinking up ways to get home to bed.

I could sleep here, I've done it before.

I lie on my desk, with my double doona and pillow, I look over to see Patrick roll off the side of the desk, he glares at me.

Not a good idea, Nina, you need proper sleep.

I could steal a car.

I smash in the window, and climb in, dressed in all black, with sunglasses on. I hotwire the car, and drive away, fire coming out the exhaust, heavy metal music blasting.

Something more realistic, Nina!

I pick up my phone and click on Patrick.

The phone rings, and for a second I think he's not going to pick up, but then he does.

"Patrick!" I say happily.

"Nina, you do realise that I'm not on a night shift as well," Patrick mumbles, half-asleep.

"I know, it's just my car broke down, and I did six caesarians and our baby is going to swear and I'll fall off the desk- no, no, you'll fall off the desk, not me, but that's not the point," I babble on, "sorry, sorry for waking you, but, but the car, just, tired," I can barely string my words together, luckily Patrick interupts me, "I'll come pick you up, I'll see you in fifteen."

"Thank-you," I say, he just makes a small noise in reply before hanging up.

Sure enough fifteen minutes later his car pulls up, and I clamber out of mine and into his. We kiss clumsily, before I shut the door, and Patrick starts to drive.

"Thanks Patrick, sorry about waking you, I, I did six caesarians, and then," I shake my head, "just so so so tired," I say, "I don't even know what I'm saying!"

"Do you ever know what you're saying," he says cheekily.

I laugh (slightly deleriously), giving him a lazy wack in the chest.

"You knowww," I say, widening my eyes in an attempt to stay awake until we get home, "if I did this a few years ago, when I was still living with Billie, I would still be at that car park!"

Patrick laughs, "should would have probably said, 'you better be dying',"

"And then when I told her the reason she would of either just hung up, or told me to get fucked," I say.

He laughs, smiling at me.

I put my head on the window, sleep about to eat me up.

"So six caeserians," Patrick asks.

"Yep," I say, ripping myself away from sleep, "One was twins, and another was a premmy. I can tell you that six caesarians takes it toll on Nina Proudman."

"I can tell I don't think I've ever heard you sound so tired," but I can barely hear what he is saying.

I

am

so

tired.

I must of fallen asleep, because next thing I know is the car stopping.

I look around, completely delerious, I feel Patrick lift me up and I giggle, "Paaaaaaaa-trick."

"Shhh, you are really tired, we're home now," I can hardly see in the dark, but I know the corners of his mouth are twitching with amusmant.

He carries me inside, and up the stairs, then lies me down in bed.

"Ahhh, bed!" I pull the doona over me, Patrick climbs in next to me and I snuggle up to him.

"Thanks for tonight," I whisper into the darkness.

"You can thank me in the morning, when we've both had enough sleep," Patrick mumbles.