When a lady gives birth at the prison hospital, the midwife cries in fear as she comes to check her.
That morning, everything was eerily tranquil in the prison. One of the guards observed that one of the pregnant inmates was feeling ill during a routine inspection. The inmate was taken to the jail hospital after she summoned the other guards.
This woman had no family or close relatives, and no one had paid her a visit while she was incarcerated. It was her ninth month of pregnancy, and she had no medical documents. She was so sick that she hardly talked.
Lying in a stark room, her gaze was lost. But there was simply resignation in her gaze, neither anguish or terror.
The inmate was approached by the well-seasoned, elderly midwife, who said softly, “Hello, I will be by your side until the baby is born.” Could I have a look at you?
The woman simply nodded in response.
Leaning in, the midwife examined her. Then, out of the blue, she cried in panic, “Call a priest now!”
The baby’s heartbeat was inaudible to her.
In a panic, she applied more pressure, but to no avail.
“I can’t hear the heart,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
The guards looked at each other anxiously.
Every second mattered, and the contractions were getting stronger.
The midwife was adamant and gave them instructions to summon a priest to perform a last ceremony for the deceased infant.
The silence was soon broken by a slight, nearly undetectable sound.
Although feeble, the baby’s heartbeat could be felt.
“It’s alive!” exclaimed the midwife.
After several hours of agony, the atmosphere was broken by a wail.
It was the baby’s first cry, frail yet alive.
The medical staff hastened to deliver oxygen to the newborn.
The midwife said, “Thank you, Lord,” feeling both relieved and exhausted.
The prisoner finally raised her eyes and grinned for the first time.
