Nothing seems to register. The pain that I'm experiencing is hellish and novel. It's worse than normal labour pains only because I'm trying so hard not to push.

"Hope!" I start, pulling at her hand. "Hope you have to be the one to deliver the baby."

She runs alongside the stretcher into the delivery room. "Okay." She squeezes my hand in reassurance.

"Beverly!" He's here. I hear that familiar voice. It's the voice that makes everything sound like Shakespeare. I'd know it anywhere. He's caught up with the stretcher.

More tears build and spill over. "Jean Luc, it's too early."

"Shhh.." I see him come to a halt and the movement on the stretcher ceases. He leans down and kisses my mottled forehead. "I love you. Don't worry." He's trying to be brave, but I know him too well. I know he's just as scared as I am.

His attention is redirected. "Jean Luc," Hope says. "We need to get you changed."

He looks back at me and kisses me again. "I'll be right back."

The OR is cold. I'm already cold and it's colder. I try to close my eyes.

"Mom," I hear Wesley's voice.

"Wes?"

He's holding Saoirse. "I shouldn't be in here, but we wanted to see you. We'll be right outside."

Saoirse looks upset. She's going to start crying soon. It's a wonder she hasn't already.

"Hey, baby girl," he brings her closer to me, "take care of your brother. Mommy's going to be ok." I give her a kiss as I hear familiar footfall.

"Wes, thank goodness you made it!"

"I got your message when we were in the cafeteria. I'll wait outside. Come out as soon as you can."

I feel a strong hand take mine.

"Beverly, I'm going to need you to push." Peripherally I feel my legs put into stirrups. I'm only too happy to oblige.

Jean Luc sits beside me, supporting my back as I lean forward and bear down. The movement is easy this time. With Saoirse, I was in agony for hours. I feel the baby in the birth canal. The motion is automatic.

"We've got crowning."

Normally, would be overjoyed that the end of the labour is in sight. But this time, I'm mournful. I know that once this baby leaves my body, its life is danger. As soon as it comes out, he or she is going to have to be isolated in a biochamber. Medicine is advanced and it shouldn't be a problem, but I'm still worried.

"Shoulders! One more push, Beverly."

The motion is easy. The shoulders are big, but my body is expulsive and within one movement I feel the body leave. Normal elation, languidness, and mirth are replaced by hurry and panic. Every minute is essential and has to be used to stablise the baby. Intubation is crude. But in this case, it's what Hope chooses to be in order to be on the safe side.

"Mac blade with a glidescope!" She calls out. I can see her visualizing the cords and gliding the tube easily into the trachea. Oxygen is immediately commenced. Corticosteriods are summarily administered to increase alveolar surfactant production.

My heart aches for my child. It shouldn't be like this. It's not fair that he or she is suffering. Jean Luc stays with me. He wants to be there, but Hope and at least 4 nurses surround the bio chamber.

"Okay. Let's get her to the NICU."

A nurse, Kathy, comes over to us. "He's stable, Beverly. You got here just in time."

Jean Luc's tear-filled voice manages, "He?"

Kathy smiles. "It's a boy."