They were laughing. One nurse was saying: 'When I had my first child I was all ripped to pieces. I had to be sewn up again, and then I had another, and had to be sewn up, and then I had another...'
The other nurse said: 'Mine passed like an envelope through a letter box. But afterwards the bag would not come out. The bag would not come out. Out. Out...' Why did they keep repeating themselves. And the lamps turning. And the steps of the doctor very fast, very fast.
'She can't labor any more, at six months nature does not help. She should have another injection.'
I felt the needle thrust. The lamps were still. The ice and the blue that was all around came into my veins. My heart beat wildly. The nurses talked: 'Now that baby of Mrs L. last week, who would have thought she was too small, a big woman like that, a big woman like that...' The words kept turning, as on disk. They talked, they talked, they talked...
Please hold my legs! Please hold my legs! Please hold my legs! PLEASE HOLD MY LEGS! I am ready again. By throwing my head back I can see the clock. I have been struggling for hours. It would be better to die. Why I am alive and struggling so desperately? I could not remember why I should want to live. I could not remember anything. Everything was blood and pain. I have to push. I have to push. That is a black fixed point in eternity. At the end of a long dark tunnel. I have to push. A voice saying: 'Push! Push! Push!' A knee on my stomach and the marble of my legs crushing me and the head so large and I have to push.
