Uremma turned and walked quickly down the hallway, her white coat flowing behind her.
Inside the delivery room, the woman was already deep in labour—sweat clung to her face, and she gripped the bedsheets with shaky hands. Monitors beeped steadily in the background. Nurses stood close, ready, their eyes flicking between the woman and the screen.
Uremma washed her hands, slipped on gloves, and stepped in.
One of the nurses met her with a worried look. 'Her blood pressure's rising. Baby's heartbeat is slowing.'
Uremma moved closer, her face calm. She checked the monitor herself, then looked at the woman, who was breathing fast and barely able to speak.
'We need to move,' Uremma said firmly. 'Prep for an emergency C-section.'
The room, already alert, shifted into full focus. No panic, just fast, trained hands switching gears. A new tray was brought in. The anaesthetist was called. The delivery bed was adjusted.
Uremma leaned down, holding the woman's hand. 'Chioma, we're going to take your baby out safely. I'm here with you, okay?'
A few minutes later, under the bright theatre lights, tension hung thick in the air. The beeping of machines, the rustle of gloves, and the sharp smell of antiseptic all faded into the background for Uremma. Her focus was on just one thing.
She made the incision with steady hands. Every move was quick but careful. Her team moved with her like clockwork.
Minutes passed, though they felt like hours. Then, a cry broke through the room, strong, clear, and full of life. A baby boy, tiny but perfect, lay in the nurse's arms.
Uremma smiled behind her mask, her eyes glistening. She always held back tears in the theatre, but this one touched her deeply.
A nurse cleaned him and wrapped him in a blanket, placing him gently in Uremma's arms for a moment before taking him to be checked.
Later, she stepped out into the hallway where Mr Adams was waiting, pacing like his legs had minds of their own. His face lifted the second he saw her.
Uremma pulled down her mask, her face tired but warm.
'She's okay,' she said.
His shoulders sagged in relief.
'And your son,' she added with a smile, 'is strong. Loud, too.'
Mr Adams covered his face with both hands, whispering a thank you, again and again. When he looked up, his eyes were wet.
'I don't know what to say,' he said.
'You don't have to say anything,' Uremma replied. 'Go and meet your family.'
He nodded quickly, still in disbelief, and rushed off to meet his wife and newborn.
***