“Mum?”

Saanvi answered the phone after a couple of rings.

“Hi Freya, how are you?”

“Mum, I think Gab’s in labour.”

“Okay.” There was a subtle switch in Saanvi’s tone. “Where is she? Is she alright?”

“We’re at home. We’re just in the lounge room. But the contractions seem really strong!”

“Can you put me on speakerphone, dear?”

“Sure.” Freya did so.

“Girls, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” they replied.

“Have your waters broken, Gab?” she asked.

“I don’t know!” replied Gab. “How would I know?”

“Some women feel a sudden pop or a gushing of water, but with others, it is more gradual—a continuous leak. The baby might feel lower inside you.”

Gab shook her head.

“No, Mum,” said Freya, “Gab’s waters haven’t broken.”

“Okay,” said Saanvi. “How long between contractions?”

“I don’t know,” said Freya, “Not long. Gab?” But Gab’s eyes were shut and she breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth like she never had before. The presence of Saanvi’s voice added a degree of stability at least.

“Mum, Gab’s having another contraction. It can’t have been long since the last one … maybe three minutes? Or five?”

“Okay, make sure to time between them, from the start of one contraction to the beginning of the next,” instructed Saanvi. “In the meantime, is Gab comfortable?”

“NO!” squawked Gab, as the contraction eased. “But that’s just the contractions,” she said, as she found her breath again. “That was a really short one.”

“It sounds like they’re a still a little unpredictable,” said Saanvi. “That can happen, especially when it’s your first labour. It’s happening quickly enough though, so just find a comfortable position for your contractions—whatever feels natural. Use towels or cushions if you need. You can even take a shower. The warm water will help.”

“But Mum! Don’t we need to get to hospital?” asked Freya.

“Maybe,” said Saanvi. “But if it’s too early, they’ll just send you home. Gab, when did your contractions start?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Gab. “I started feeling pain this morning, maybe about nine o’clock? But it wasn’t much. I just thought it was cramping.”

“Okay. Well, it’s nothing like the movies,” assured Saanvi. “It often takes a long time, at least with first babies. Your body needs to warm up. The more you can relax and be comfortable, the smoother the process will be. You can call your hospital midwife at any time. In fact, you should do that now so they know to expect you. They will tell you when to come in.”

Saanvi’s calmness and her normalisation of the situation reduced Gab’s panic. It was all happening, but not all at once. There was time.

“Okay, so I should call the hospital?”

“Yes, do that.”

Gab did so from her own phone, notwithstanding another contraction which came a good seven minutes after the last. It was all routine for the midwife on the phone, who instructed Gab to come in either when her waters broke or when her contractions were consistently four minutes apart.

“Gab!” cried Freya suddenly, “how are you getting to the hospital?”

Neither had a car. It was one and a half kilometres from their apartment to the hospital.

“I don’t know … I’ll walk I guess,” said Gab.

“WHAT?” cried usually-unflappable Freya. “You can’t walk to hospital in labour, Gab!”

“It’s probably better than riding my bike,” joked Gab wryly. “Or taking a tram!” Getting on the trams during pregnancy had felt risky enough with all their violent stopping and starting; in labour it was unthinkable.

“Walking is very good for labour,” Saanvi interjected calmly. “So it will be fine if Gab feels comfortable to do so. It just depends on when you need to go there, Gab.”

“What about an ambulance?!” exclaimed Freya.

“Not calling an ambulance,” said Gab determinedly. She hated the thought of drama.

“Why?” asked Freya in disbelief.

“Just because, okay? Trust me.” Gab was adamant.

“Sorry. A taxi then?”

Gab paused, closed her eyes and shut out the world for ninety seconds before they resumed their conversation.

“Freya, imagine if my waters broke in the cab! No way.” Gab was mortified at the idea of being in such close quarters with a random taxi-driver at such a time. Her self-consciousness was so ingrained that it exerted power even then, in the most primal experience of her life. On the surface, this didn’t make much sense, because there would be plenty of people on the streets if she walked. But at least this way, Gab had fresh air and space, and there were corners to hide in. She wouldn’t be trapped. She’d be in control. Sort of.

“Your waters might break in the street!” exclaimed Freya, trying to temper her disbelief. “What if the pain is too intense and you can’t walk? What if you give birth on the footpath?? It’s not like you’d be in an ambulance for long … or a taxi,” she added, seeing Gab’s face.

“Freya,” Saanvi’s tone carried a subtle warning.

“I’m just worried for you, Gab,” Freya explained.

“It’s okay,” Gab said to her friend.

“Gab, if you want to walk, dear, you walk,” said Saanvi staunchly. “If that is what your body is telling you to do, you do it. Freya will go with you. If it gets too much, you must call an ambulance, okay? Likewise, if you need to get to hospital in the middle of the night. If the contractions feel like they’re continuous, without a break and getting stronger, your baby is close. Keep that in mind too, dear. But for now, I think you’re still in the first stages of labour.”

“First stage?” exclaimed Gab. “Saanvi, how long is this going to take?”

“Hard to say. The first stage is the longest,” said Saanvi calmly. “Your body knows what to do. You can trust it. Just breathe, try to relax and go with it. Freya, can you carry Gab’s bag for her when you walk to the hospital?”

“Yes, Mum, of course!” exclaimed Freya, still bamboozled at the idea of calmly walking through the city with her friend in the process of giving birth. But at least it wasn’t far. Twenty minutes. Freya was sure they could get there in twenty minutes, even with having to stop for contractions.