That morning, an unusual calm settled over the prison hospital room. Gone were the usual slamming doors and familiar shouts. An unsettling silence had taken over.

The Midwife’s Unease

“Who’s on the list today?” a nurse asked, laying out crumpled cards.

The midwife, an older woman with tired eyes, barely looked up. Years of working in the colony had shown her countless broken mothers and tragedies. But today felt different. A vague uneasiness gnawed at her.

“Prisoner #1462,” the nurse replied. “Her contractions will start any minute. We transferred her from the Eastern Bloc a month ago. She has no family, no records, and barely speaks.”

“Not at all?” the midwife asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Only nods. She won’t make eye contact, as if she’s locked inside herself.”

The heavy door creaked open, revealing the patient. The pregnant woman lay on a narrow metal bed, her hands on her huge belly. She stared at the floor, her face pale, her hair disheveled. A strange stillness—not fear, but resignation—surrounded her.

The midwife approached. “Hello,” she said quietly. “I’ll be with you until the baby is born. Let me examine you.” The woman nodded.

A Frightening Discovery

The midwife leaned over and suddenly screamed in horror. “Call a priest immediately!” she shouted.

An eerie emptiness replaced the expected strong heartbeat. The midwife repositioned her stethoscope, pressed harder, and held her breath. Nothing.

She turned pale. “I don’t hear a heartbeat,” she whispered.

The guards exchanged tense glances.

The contractions began abruptly, leaving no time to think. The midwife gritted her teeth. “Call a priest immediately!” she yelled again. “If the child is stillborn, we must give it a prayer, not silence.” The woman on the bed said nothing, only clenching the sheets.

Suddenly, the midwife heard a sound. It was quiet at first, a distant whisper that grew stronger. A heartbeat. It was weak, intermittent, but it was there.

“Alive,” she breathed. “He’s alive.”

A New Life

The fight to save the mother and child began. The contractions intensified. Guards held the woman’s arms as she screamed, and the midwife fought to deliver the baby. Time seemed to stand still.

Finally, after hours of struggle, a quiet squeak filled the air. A boy. He was weak and tiny with blue skin, but he was alive.

They rushed him to oxygen and rubbed him until his breathing deepened. A loud, desperate cry filled the room. The midwife closed her eyes, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered.

The prisoner looked up for the first time and smiled.