The night before dawn
When Emmas contractions started the clock read a quarter to three. The flat was drenched in a damp halflight: a fine rain fell outside, streetlamps smeared blurry reflections on the cobbles. James had risen from the sofa before her hed barely slept all night, shifting on a kitchen stool, checking the bag by the door, then peering out the window. Emma lay on her side, hand pressed to her belly, counting the seconds between each wave of pain: seven minutes, then six and a half. She tried to recall the breathing technique from the video in through the nose, out through the mouth but her breaths came jagged.
Already? James called from the hallway, his voice muffled behind the bedroom door.
Seems like it Emma eased herself up onto the edge of the bed and felt the cold floor against her bare feet. The contractions are getting more frequent.
Theyd spent the past month prepping for this: buying a large navyblue maternity bag, stuffing it with everything the NHS checklist demanded. Passport, NHS card, spare nightgown, phone charger and even a chocolate bar just in case. Now even that meticulous order felt a bit shaky. James was fussing by the wardrobe, riffling through folders of paperwork.
My passports here the NHS card wheres the exchange card? Did you grab it yesterday? he muttered quickly, as if fearing hed wake the neighbours through the thin walls.
Emma pushed herself up, waddling to the bathroom just to splash some water on her face. The room smelled of soap and slightly damp towels. In the mirror stared a woman with dark circles under her eyes and hair in a messy tangle.
Should we book a black cab now? James shouted from the corridor.
Go on just doublecheck the bag first.
Both were still young: Emma, twentyseven; James, just over thirty. He worked as a design engineer at a local factory, shed been teaching English at a secondary school until maternity leave. Their flat was compact: a kitchenliving area and a bedroom overlooking the high street. All the signs of change were everywhere a baby cot already assembled in the corner, a stack of nappies beside it, and a box of toys from friends.
James ordered a cab through an app the familiar yellow icon popped up on his phone almost instantly.
The driver will be here in ten minutes he read, trying to keep his voice steady while his fingers trembled over the screen.
Emma slipped a hoodie over her nightdress and fished for her charger: the battery indicator showed eighteen percent. She stashed the cable in her jacket pocket alongside a face towel might come in handy on the road.
The hallway reeked of shoes and Jamess slightly damp coat, still drying from yesterdays walk.
As they packed, the contractions grew stronger and a touch more regular. Emma tried not to watch the clock; instead she counted breaths and imagined the road ahead.
They stepped out of the building five minutes before the appointed time. A pale pool of light glowed by the lift, a draft rattling up from the stairwell. The stairwell was cool; Emma pulled her coat tighter and hugged the folder of documents to her chest.
Downstairs the air was brisk and damp, even for May. Rain beads ran down the awning above the entrance, and a few hurried pedestrians scurried past, hats pulled low, hoods up.
Cars were parked haphazardly in the courtyard; somewhere distant a muffled engine throbbed, as if someone was warming up for a night shift. The taxi was already five minutes late; the arrival pin on the map crawled forward slowly, the driver clearly looping around backstreets or dodging an obstruction.
James checked his phone every halfminute:
Two minutes, it read, but hes taking the long way roadworks?
Emma leaned on the balustrade, tried to relax her shoulders, and suddenly remembered the chocolate bar. She slipped a hand into the side pocket of the bag and felt the familiar wrapper a tiny comfort amidst the chaos.
At last a white Renault eased around the corner, slowed before the entrance and stopped precisely at the foot of the stairs. The driver a wearylooking bloke in his midforties with a trimmed beard hopped out, flung open the rear door and helped Emma settle onto the seat with her luggage.
Good evening! Maternity ward? Got it! Buckle up, will you? he said cheerfully, not too loud, his movements efficient but unhurried.
James squeezed in beside Emma, the door thudding a bit louder than usual. Inside, the air smelled of fresh air mixed with the lingering scent of coffee from a thermos near the handbrake.
Once out of the courtyard they hit a minor jam: emergency lights flashed ahead as road crews were repaving the lane under flickering streetlamps. The driver cranked the navigation louder:
Right, they promised to finish by midnight. Well cut through the alley behind the shops
Then Emma had a sudden flash of panic.
Wait! I left my NHS card at home! They wont let me in without it!
James went pale.
Ill run back! Were only a few minutes away!
The driver glanced in his rearview mirror.
Take your time. Ill wait. Theres still plenty of time.
James bolted out, splashing through puddles, his shoes sloshing as he raced up the stairs. Four minutes later he returned, breathless, clutching the card and a bunch of keys hed forgotten them in the lock and had to climb back up again. The driver gave a brief nod.
All set? Lets go then!
Emma pressed the documents to her chest as a fresh contraction hit harder than before she tried to breathe evenly through clenched teeth. The car inched forward along the construction zone; through the fogged windows she could see wet signs for 24hour pharmacies and the occasional silhouette of a passerby under an umbrella.
The cabin was filled with a tense quiet, broken only by the navigations occasional rerouting prompts and the soft hiss of the heater warming the windshield.
After a few minutes the driver broke the silence.
Ive got three kids myself one was born at night, and we walked to the hospital in snow waistdeep turned into a grand adventure later on!
He gave a small, tired smile.
Dont worry too early just keep your paperwork handy and hold each others hands tight!
Emma felt a strange lightness for the first time in half an hour; the drivers calm tone worked better than any online forum or support group. She glanced at James, who returned a faint smile despite the strain in his eyes.
They arrived at the maternity ward just before five in the morning. The rain was still drizzling, now more lazy than insistent, pattering on the car roof. James was the first to spot a pale band of light on the horizon the city being brushed with the first hints of dawn. The driver steered into a lesspuddled spot, halted, and stepped out.
Right, were here! he called, turning back. Ill help with the bag, no worries.
Emma struggled to sit up, hand pressed to her belly, clutching the folder. James was the first out, grabbing her elbow and ushering her onto the slick pavement. Another contraction slammed over Emma, forcing her to pause and take a couple of slow breaths. The driver deftly lifted the navyblue bag and positioned it near the entrance.
Watch your step, its slippery, he warned over his shoulder, his voice sounding as if this were routine, not extraordinary.
The entrance smelled of damp earth, flower beds, and a faint antiseptic tang. Drops gathered on the canopy, occasionally splashing onto a sleeve or cheek. James looked around: nobody else, just a nightshift nurse behind a glass door and a couple of security guards by the far wall.
The driver set the bag down, straightened up and, a little sheepishly, shrugged.
Well good luck! Remember each other, and everything else will fall into place.
James wanted to say something, but the words got stuck too much had built up over the night. He simply shook the drivers hand, firmly, sincerely grateful. Emma nodded, gave a halfsmile and whispered, Thank you really.
No problem! the driver replied, averting his gaze as he walked back to his car. Everything will be fine!
The maternity ward doors creaked open; the night nurse peeked out, scanned the scene with a quick look and waved them in.
Come in! Have your papers ready Men cant go in unless its an emergency. Got your folder?
Emma nodded, handed over the folder through the slightly ajar door. The bag followed. James lingered under the canopy, rain drumming on his hood, barely noticing it.
Wait here. If you need anything, well call you, the nurse called from inside.
Emma turned for a split second, her eyes meeting Jamess through the glass. She gave a tiny all good gesture palm up, a weak grin then was ushered down a corridor; the door shut softly behind her.
James stayed alone under the earlymorning sky. The drizzle eased, the dampness seeping into his collar but no longer annoying. He glanced at his phone: a few percent left hed need to hunt down an outlet or borrow a charger later.
The driver didnt pull away right away; he fiddled with the cars interior lights, glanced at James through the side window, their eyes meeting briefly, wordlessly. In that silence there was more support than in any long speech.
James gave a thumbsup, a simple thankyou. The driver returned the nod, gave a weary, wide grin and finally rolled away.
When the car disappeared around the bend the street seemed unusually empty. For a heartbeat it was so quiet you could hear only the rain tapping the metal awning and the distant hum of a city just waking up.
James lingered under the shelter. Through the glass he could see the reception desk where Emma was sitting, filling out forms with a nurse. Her face looked calmer now; the tension of the night seemed to dissolve with the rain.
He realised hed felt a lightness for the first time all night as if hed been holding his breath underwater and finally resurfaced. Everything had worked out: theyd arrived on time, the paperwork was there, Emma was in safe hands, and a new day lay ahead.
The sky above the city slowly turned a pearly shade of sunrise; the air smelled fresh after the nights shower. James took a deeper breath, just because, no grand purpose needed.
In that moment, anything seemed possible.
Time crawled for James as he paced the path beside the hospital, avoiding his phone screen so it wouldnt die completely.
About an hour and a half after Emma checked in, Jamess phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Emma.
Congratulations, youre a dad now, weve got a little lad a proper strongboy, all good!
