The night before dawn
When Emmas contractions began, the clock read a quarter to three. Their flat was cloaked in damp twilight: a light drizzle fell outside, streetlamps smeared hazy reflections on the wet pavement. Jack had risen from the sofa before herhed been restless all night, perched on a kitchen stool, checking the bag by the door, then glancing out the window. Emma lay on her side, hand pressed to her belly, counting the seconds between waves of pain: seven minutes, then six and a half. She tried to recall the breathing videoinhale through the nose, exhale through the mouthbut the rhythm stumbled.
Already? Jack called from the hallway, his voice muffled behind the closed bedroom door.
It seems so Emma perched on the edge of the bed, feeling the cold floor beneath her bare feet. The contractions are getting more frequent.
For the past month they had prepared for this moment: theyd bought a large blue maternity bag, packed it according to a checklist printed from a parenting website. Passport, NHS card, spare nightgown, phone charger, and even a bar of chocolate just in case. Now even that order felt fragile. Jack fidgeted by the wardrobe, shuffling through folders of documents.
My passports here NHS card Here it is and the exchange card? Did you pack it yesterday? he whispered, as if afraid to wake the neighbours through the thin walls.
Emma rose heavily and shuffled to the bathroomshe needed at least a splash of water. The scent of soap and damp towels filled the space. In the mirror she saw a woman with dark circles under her eyes and hair in disarray.
Should we call a cab now? Jack shouted from the corridor.
Go ahead but doublecheck the bag first.
Both were young: Emma, twentyseven; Jack, just past thirty. He worked as a design engineer at a local factory, she had been a secondaryschool English teacher before maternity leave. Their flat was modest: a combined kitchenliving area and a bedroom overlooking the main road. Everything hinted at change: a crib in the corner, already assembled, a stack of nappies beside it; a box of toys from friends nearby.
Jack ordered a taxi through an appthe familiar yellow icon appeared on his phone almost instantly.
The car will be here in ten minutes
He tried to keep his voice steady, but his fingers trembled over the screen.
Emma pulled a hoodie over her nightdress and fumbled for the charger: the battery indicator read eighteen percent. She slipped the cable into the jacket pocket alongside a face toweljust in case.
The hallway smelled of shoes and Jacks damp coat, still drying from their walk the night before.
As they gathered themselves, the contractions grew stronger and a little more frequent. Emma avoided the clock, focusing instead on inhaling and exhaling, picturing the road ahead.
They stepped out into the stairwell five minutes before the appointed time: the lobby light cast a pale spot by the lift, a draft rose from the basement. The stairs were cool; Emma tightened her coat around her and clutched the folder of papers.
Below, the air was crisp and damp even for May: rain droplets streamed down the awning above the entrance, a few hurried pedestrians hurried on, heads tucked under coats or pulling hoods tighter.
Cars were haphazardly parked in the courtyard; somewhere distant a muffled engine rumbled, as if someone was warming up for a night shift. The taxi was already five minutes late; the arrival pin on the map crawled slowly, the driver apparently looping around courtyards or skirting an obstacle.
Jack checked his phone every halfminute.
Text says: Two minutes, but hes taking a roundabout maybe roadworks?
Emma leaned against the railing of the landing and tried to relax her shoulders. She remembered the chocolate, stuck her hand into the side pocket of the bag and felt the barsmall comfort amid the chaos.
At last the headlights emerged from around the corner: a white Renault eased before the entrance and halted at the foot of the stairs. The driver, a man about fortyfive with a tired face and a short beard, swung the rear door open and helped Emma into the seat, luggage in tow.
Good evening! Maternity ward? Got it! Buckle up, please he said cheerfully, not too loudly; his movements were efficient, without needless haste. Jack settled beside Emma behind the driver; the door slammed a little louder than usualinside the car a fresh scent mingled with the lingering aroma of coffee from a thermos on the dash.
Leaving the courtyard, they fell into a minor jam: ahead, flashing lights marked roadworkers laying fresh tarmac under solitary lamps. The driver cranked the navigation louder.
Right they promised to finish by midnight! Well cut through the side alley
In that instant Emma remembered the NHS card.
Wait! I left the card at home! They wont let me in without it!
Jacks face went pale.
Ill jog back! Were close!
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror.
Take your time. Ill wait here as long as you needstill plenty of time.
Jack sprinted out, splashing through puddles, his shoes sloshing as he raced down the stairwell. Four minutes later he returned, breathless, the card clutched in his hand alongside the keyshed forgotten them in the lock and had to climb back up once more. The driver watched the road ahead in silence. When Jack slipped back into the seat, the driver gave a brief nod.
All set? Then off we go.
Emma pressed the documents to her chest as a fresh contraction surged, forcing her to breathe through clenched teeth. The car inched forward along the roadworks; through the fogged windshield she could see wet signs for 24hour chemists and occasional silhouettes of umbrellas.
The cabin was tense and quiet, only the navigation voice announcing new detours and the heater gently hissing.
After a few minutes the driver broke the silence.
I have three kids the first was born at night, we walked to the hospital in kneedeep snow later we laughed about the adventure.
He smiled at the edge of his lips.
Dont worry too early just keep your papers and hold each others hands tight!
Emma felt a strange lightness for the first time in half an hour; the drivers calm tone soothed more than any online forum or support group. She glanced at Jack, who returned a faint smile through his tense stare.
They arrived at the maternity ward just before five in the morning. The rain still fell, now lazy, tapping the car roof like a gentle hymn. Jack was the first to spot a pale band on the horizonLondon beginning to bleed pale sunrise. The driver turned into the side lane and stopped where puddles were few. Two ambulances stood nearby, but a clear space remained for a quick disembark.
Here we are! the driver announced, turning back. Ill help with the bag, dont worry.
Emma eased upright, hand on her belly, clutching the folder. Jack leapt out first, catching his wife by the elbow and helping her onto the slick pavement. A fresh contraction hit Emma so hard she had to pause, breathing slowly. The driver swayed the blue bag into her arms and stepped forward.
Watch your step, its slippery he called over his shoulder. His voice sounded as if this were routine, yet not quitemore a familiar thread in the citys tapestry.
At the entrance, the air smelled of damp earth, flowerbeds, and antiseptica mix of rain and hospital chemicals. Drops gathered under the awning, sometimes landing on sleeves or cheeks. Jack looked around: only a nightshift nurse behind a glass door and a couple of men in uniforms near the far wall.
The driver placed the bag beside Emma, straightened, then, a little embarrassed by his own initiative, shrugged.
Well good luck! The main thing is you remember each other. Everything else will follow.
Jack wanted to say more, but the words stuck in his throattoo much had piled up through the night. He simply shook the drivers handfirm, genuinely grateful. Emma nodded, offered a hesitant smile and whispered:
Thank you truly.
No problem at all, the driver replied, averting his gaze as he walked back to his car. Everything will be fine!
The ward doors creaked open; the night nurse peeked out, assessed the scene with a quick glance and waved them in.
Come in! Have your papers ready men cant enter unless its an emergency. Got your folder?
Emma nodded and handed the folder through the slightly ajar door. The bag followed. Jack lingered under the awning: rain drummed his coats hood, but he barely noticed.
Stay here. If anythings needed, well call, the nurse called from inside.
Emma turned briefly, her eyes meeting Jacks through the glass. She gave a small, reassuring gesturepalm up, a faint smile. Then she was led down the corridor; the door closed softly behind her.
Jack remained alone beneath the morning sky. The drizzle eased, the damp seeping into his collar but no longer irritating. He instinctively checked his phone: battery held barely a couple of percenthed need a socket later.
The driver lingered in his car a bit longer, switching the lights on, then turned his head through the side window toward Jack. Their eyes met againbrief, wordless. In that silence lay more support than any long speech could muster.
Jack gave a thumbsup, a simple thankyou. The driver nodded, gave a tired, wide grin and finally pulled away.
When the car disappeared around the bend, the street seemed unusually empty. For a heartbeat the world was quiet, only the rains patter on the awning and the distant hum of a city waking behind the houses.
Jack waited beneath the shelter. Through the glass he could see the reception inside; Emma sat at a desk with the nurse, filling out forms. Her face looked calmer, the tension of the night dissolving like the rain.
He realized he felt a lightness for the first time all nightas if hed been holding his breath underwater and now finally broke the surface. Everything had gone as it should: they arrived on time, the documents were in hand, Emma was in safe care, and a new morning lay ahead.
The sky above the city softened into a pearlescent dawn; the moist air smelled fresh after the nights rain. Jack inhaled deeply, simply, without any purpose beyond the act.
In that moment anything seemed possible.
Time stretched slowly for Jack; he paced the path beside the hospital, avoiding his phone screen so it wouldnt die completely.
About an hour and a half after Emma entered, Jacks phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Emma calling.
Congratulations, youve become a dad, weve got a boyArthur, 4200, alls well!
