On the floor runs a blue stripe and above my head hangs the cosy but practical a fluorescent light. It is the middle of the night. The hospital corridor is empty. The labour that started at home has ended in a caesarean section at the hospital. Before driving back home, I look in the nurses' room at the board that lists the names of the women in labour. I recognise the name of one of our clients who has become medical and so will give birth in hospital. It is always nice for women going into labour to see a familiar face, so I decide to go and see how labour is going. The nurse asks inside if she is OK with her own midwife coming to connect, and I hear the pregnant one shout 'yes please' between 2 contractions.

"Hi, I am the midwife at your practice and came to see how you are doing," I say, stepping into the delivery room. "How nice," she says. She looks different than I remember her. But there is not much time to have a conversation about that. She groans in pain. "The push contractions have started. "You're almost there," I say. 

The physician assistant comes in. "It's busy," he tells me. "Three deliveries at once. " I'm staying to help," I say. In the corner of the room, the woman's husband is on his phone. Standing next to him, I see he is scrolling over his Instagram. I shake his hand. "Hello, shall we help together? He gets up and stands next to his wife. With a snap, the woman gives birth to a healthy daughter half an hour later. "The cut still needs to be stitched, though," the physician assistant sighs. 'I'll do that,' I say. The obviously tired man in his late twenties looks at me gratefully. I still have some time, go on quickly." He gives me a hand and rushes to the other delivery room. 

I'm going to sedate you, don't worry," I tell the woman, who looks from her daughter to me, startled, as I get the stuff ready. The man comes up beside me and taps me on the shoulder. "Would you please add a stitch? Then it will be extra tight." I look up and say, "Maybe you should think about what you say next, at the moment she needs more of a big hug and encouraging words." The man turns, looks at his wife and gives her a fleeting kiss. Soon he swaps the chair in the corner for the corridor. 

The next day, I hand over my shift to my colleague and tell who has given birth. I mention the woman's name. "That's not possible," says my colleague. "That one gave birth last month when you had a week off." "No way, I was there last night." "Are you sure it was this woman?" my colleague asks sharply. 

I call the hospital and ask for the name of the woman who gave birth last night in room 14. I get a different name from the relevant midwife's practice caring for her in childbirth. The name was the same and so was the date of birth except for one day. With a blush on my cheeks, I call this midwife practice where the woman is under treatment and apologise. They can laugh heartily about it. "Super that you were there on our behalf." I then call the woman to apologise. "Girl, no need to apologise. I thought you were great. I was very happy with you. That guy of mine came back from the hallway with a bunch of flowers and apologies!"