Weeks, and months pass, far more quickly than Patsy is prepared for. Each day she finds that she has to grow more creative in hiding the problem that she carries so close to her heart. The time comes, and the time goes, and Sister Julienne subtly ensures that Nurse Mount only attends clinic duties, and is not on call. They cite muscles spasms, which Patsy feels to only be a slight stretch of the truth. Late one evening Patsy finds herself alone in her room.

It is a full moon, and every other nurse at Nonnatus is out attending to deliveries. Patsy glances out the window at the full moon, and wishes that she could be of assistance. She rolls over, and attempts to elicit rest. She is restless, but manages to succumb to sleep less than an hour later. She has barely entered REM sleep, when she is rudely awakened. She reaches over, and turns on the lamp. She is gripped by violent, painful contractions. As she manages to shift into a sitting position she realizes she is drenched in sweat. She pulls back the covers, and inches to the edge of the bed. She clenches her fist, as the contraction takes over. After the contraction passes, she rises to her feet, hoping to find Trixie.

She looks over, and finds Trixie's bed empty. By her estimation, she has had eight extra days to prepare for this event. She slowly makes her way across the bedroom. She manages to make it into the hallway before another contraction. Her contractions seem to be rapid, and relentless. She is unable to keep silent. She lets out a scream, which she is unable to stifle. She expects lights to flip on, and feet to pad down the hallway. Nothing happens. She inches her way towards the next bedroom. She finds it empty. Eventually she manages to reach Sister Julienne's room. Much to her dismay, it too is empty. Another contraction leads to another shriek. She feels short of breath, and chest tightening as she considers the possibility that she is all alone. As she leans against a doorway, trying to regulate her breathing, she hears footsteps. She looks up, and finds Sister Monica Joan.

"It looks as if it is just the two of us."

"Can you call Shelagh? I…" she is overcome by another contraction.

"I think you should allow me to examine you first. I might be rusty, but assessment has always been my strongest skill."

She nods reluctantly. Eventually the pair of them make it back to Patsy's room. Patsy points to the closet. Sister Monica Joan removes Patsy's bag, and a birthing pack. Once the rubber sheet is in place, Patsy is able to lie down.

"Something is wrong!" Patsy insists, "This is happening too fast."

"Let me be the judge of that."

"It shouldn't be happening this fast!" She repeats.

"Let me have a look," Sister Monica Joan insists as she dons a pair of sterile gloves.

"I was having very light contractions earlier today, but I have been having those for weeks. I didn't think twice."

Sister Monica Joan falls silent as she checks dilation. She keeps her opinion to herself, but her eyes widen.

"Sister Monica Joan?" Patsy grits her teeth.

"I am going to go call for back up. Okay?"

"Do you have time to call for back up?"

"Whatever you do, do not push."

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing," she lies.

"Please don't leave," Patsy begs, feeling terrified.

"We need someone who isn't as rusty."

"I can practically do it myself," Patsy argues.

"No, we are going to need more hands."

"More hands? Why? What is wrong?"

"I am going to call Dr. Turner's house."

"Why? Sister Monica Joan what is wrong? Just tell me?"

"The presenting part is not a head."

"A foot? Two feet?"

She shakes her head, "Unfortunately, no."

"Unfortunately? What is the presenting part?"

"It appears the baby is in a frank breech position."

"I feel a lot of pain, and a lot of pressure."

"Just breathe. Do not push. I will go down, and phone for help."

"I don't think this baby is going to wait for help."

"It has been ages since I have done what needs to be done. I may not be successful."

"Please try," she begs.

"I think it unwise," she argues.

Patsy starts crying hysterically as she writhes in pain, and sweat drips down her face. Sister Monica Joan re-assesses the situation. She realizes that the situation requires immediate attention, or both mother, and baby are in serious jeopardy.

"This is going to be very painful."

"Just do it!" Patsy screams.

She reaches inside, and applies enough gentle pressure to get the baby into the proper position. Patsy grips the sides of her mattress as Sister Monica Joan performs external cephalic version. She screams in agony, as the elderly sister performs the procedure. When she is done she reassess, and determines that the maneuver has been successful.

"I want to push."

Sister Monica Joan nods, "On the next contraction."

Down several flights of stairs, Delia enters Nonnatus house. She places her coat on a hook, and begins her ascent up the stairs. Her first thought is to get a warm bath to scrub the film of the day from her skin. She has hit step number two when she hears a blood curdling scream. She races up the stairs, immediately moving toward the only source of light. She stops in the doorway, frozen by the scene that is unfolding before her. Sister Monica Joan does not make eye contact, as she is occupied delivering a head. After a moment of shock, instinct kicks in. Delia reaches into her bag, and pulls out a fresh pair of gloves. By the time she reaches the bed, the baby's head has been delivered. Without a word she reaches down, and untwists the cord that is snaked around the infant's neck. With another push shoulders, and a body follow the head. She reaches for a towel, and carefully stimulates the infant. After a few seconds the grey newborn shifts into a pink color. The pink evolves to red, as the room is filled with a shrill cry.