Birth in 2073: Persephone Meets Haidies

 

This extract has a fair dues warning. If you feel it might be too difficult to read about birth trauma, lack of consent and assault, even in fictionised form, don’t read on.

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Walter sits in the soft leather armchair by the side of the delivery bed, absent-mindedly twisting his wedding ring and staring at his wife. Persephone looks back at him, helpless. A drip snakes it’s way into her arm, the cannula throbbing painfully every time she bends her wrist, trying to get comfortable during a contraction. Two large discs are attached to her voluminous belly, bluetoothing their readings to the flexi-screen being held by Fria, the Birthnurse. The lights in the room are bright. A screen on the wall is showing the 24 hour rolling news channel and Walter is relieved to see the leftist uprising in Wales has been quashed.

Persephone’s hospital gown is bunched up over her bump, exposing her belly, while a hospital sheet covers her legs. Sweat beads on her forehead as yet another contraction begins to develop deep within her. Fists buried deep in the mattress, she tries to raise herself off the bed. Fria frowns. “Sit still now, you’re affecting the readings”, she grumbles, looking at the clock and typing quickly on her flexi-screen.

“This is highly irregular you know, you refusing pain relief. You would be much more comfortable with a materfreeze. As I said, it’s very simple. I can administer it myself with the dural-gun. It’s done in a second – just a shot in your spine and voila, pain free.”

“No thank you”, gasps Persephone, the contraction ebbing away now. She had hardly heard what Fria was saying, but gets the gist; Fria thinks she can’t do this, and perhaps she can’t. But she’d like to try. Somewhere, at the core of her, is a stubborn desire to feel this, experience it, become one with the sensation. It feels impossible to explain, even to herself. But Fria’s insistance is confusing and is chipping away at her resolve. And the pain is intense, centred in the small of her back, making reclining on the bed torturous.

Walter hands his wife a glass of coconut water, offers her some grapes and squeezes her hand. “Are you sure?” Persephone just nods grimly, hastily throwing the food and drink back at him as an earthquake starts to rumble and rock inside her. This sensation is so intense she thinks it will split her back in two. Gasping through clenched teeth and without even thinking, she rolls over and attempts to get onto all fours, white heat radiating around her pelvis, a shriek escaping from her lips.

“No, no, no”, Fria orders sternly, bustling over to the bed and taking hold of Persephone’s arm. “This is no way to behave, young lady. Your husband doesn’t want to see your bottom waving in the air. I need you on your back, please, so I can accurately monitor your baby. We expect more decorum from someone with your Capitalist credentials!” Persephone shakes off Fria’s hand and continues to roar her way through the contraction. Walter stands up, grapes rolling off his lap and on to the floor, eyes wide with concern and confusion. He’s never seen Persephone act this way.
“Sweetheart, listen to Fria. She’s only doing what’s best.”

“I’ve had enough of this”, snorts Fria. “How I’m supposed to manage this delivery with this going on, I don’t know. Anyone would think we were down town in the ghetto, birthing unassisted. I’m getting the doctor. It’s time for an examination anyway, and I have a strong suspicion this baby is OP.” And with this, Fria strides out of the room, flexi-screen under her arm, shoes squeaking on the marble floor, banging the door, yet again on her way out. Persephone breathes deeply. There is more air in the room when Fria isn’t there. With her unencumbered hand she rubs her back and looks up at Walter.

“Something’s wrong, Walter”.
“What do you mean, with the baby?” Walter hastily replies.
“No, she’s fine. I can feel her. No, the pains. I can’t bear them lying on my back, but moving then felt so right. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed. This whole situation is not at all what Dr Tabib said it would be. I don’t want this. I’m scared.”
And with that, Persephone bursts into tears. Walter awkwardly embraces her as the large digital clock on the wall loudly announces midnight. A new day, the 15th, Persephone’s mother’s birthday. This baby will be named after her and may well share her birthday. A vision of Demeter fills Persephone’s mind. She had not been altogether approving of their decision to use the Taramco Arcadia and had tried to persuade her daughter to use an underground birthworker, which had shocked Persephone and cooled their relationship in the latter stages of the pregnancy. Yet now, all she can think about is how nice it would be to have her mother here to stroke her hair.

Walter is just opening his mouth to attempt a reply when the door opens. A doctor they haven’t seen before, followed by Fria, enters the room. He stands at the end of the bed, reading the flexi-screen in his hands and muttering to Fria, every now and then glancing at Persephone, a look of slight distaste on his face. Walter, his impeccable breeding uppermost as usual, steps forward with a proffered hand and introduces himself. “Doctor Haidies, pleased to meet you. I hear your wife is causing a modicum of consternation.” There is an amused look on his face, with one eyebrow arched in enjoyment at his own wit.
“I feel it prudent to examine your wife now to assess progress and make a plan. We can’t continue in this chaotic fashion. Your baby’s heart rate is a little fast – nothing to be immediately concerned about, but we can’t be too careful, can we?”

Turning his attention to Persephone, Dr Haidies tells her to lay back quietly and open her legs. Walter moves to her side to help her position herself.
“Can I wait until after the next contraction, I can feel it coming.” But somehow she finds herself lying on her back, her knees being pushed apart by the doctor’s elbow and his fingers pushing inside her. The contraction builds in intensity, her back on fire, her fists pushing into the bed as she tries to escape up the bed, away from the fingers. It hurts. A loud and lowing ‘noooooooooooo’ erupts from her lips. Fria’s hands are suddenly on her thighs, prizing them apart as Dr Haidies feels around inside her. Persephone wonders if she’s going to die, or even if she already has and this is some dreadful punishment in the afterlife.

And as suddenly as it had started, it is over. Dr Haidies removes bloodied fingers from her vagina, removing his gloves with a snap. “6 and direct OP, at the spines”, he murmurs to Fria.
“Excuse me? Can you explain?” asks Walter.
“Your child is lying in an unfavourable position, but your wife is dilating quite well. I highly recommend a materfreeze shot so that your dear Persephone here can get some rest. Materfreeze is safe and totally effective and included in your bill. I must attend to another patient now, but will leave you in Fria’s capable hands.”
And without another look at Persephone, Dr Haidies leaves the room with the ubiquitous bang of the door.