A woman was giving birth in the prison’s hospital room: the midwife approached to examine her, and then screamed in horror 😱😱
That morning in the prison hospital ward began quieter than usual. No doors slammed in the corridor, no familiar shouting was heard. Everything was too calm — and that alone was unsettling.
“Who do we have on the list today?” the duty nurse asked, spreading the crumpled inmate files across the table.
The midwife — an older woman with tired eyes, long accustomed to difficult cases — barely lifted her head. Over her years working in the colony, she had seen a lot: broken mothers, women giving birth in handcuffs, tragedies no one spoke of afterward. But something about today filled her with a vague sense of unease.
“Inmate No. 1462,” the nurse replied. “Her contractions will start any minute. She was transferred a month ago from the eastern block. No family, no documents, her medical history is empty. She hardly speaks.”
“She doesn’t speak?” the midwife raised an eyebrow. “At all?”
“She only nods briefly. Doesn’t look anyone in the eyes. As if she’s closed off from the inside.”
The heavy door creaked. In the room, which looked more like a cell, a pregnant woman lay on a narrow metal bed. She held her hands on her large belly and stared at the floor. Her face was pale, her hair messy. But there was something strange in her stillness: not fear, not pain — more like complete resignation.
The midwife stepped closer.
“Hello,” she said quietly. “I’ll be with you until the baby is born. Let me examine you.”
The woman nodded slightly.
The midwife bent down to examine the pregnant woman — and suddenly screamed in horror.
“Call a priest immediately! 😱😱”
Continuation in the first comment 👇👇
Where the steady heartbeat of the baby should have been, there was an eerie silence. The doctor changed the angle, pressed harder, held her breath… but nothing.
She turned pale.
“I don’t hear a heartbeat,” she whispered.
The guards exchanged glances, feeling the tension fill the room.
The contractions started suddenly, leaving no time to think. The midwife pressed her lips together and shouted:
“Call a priest immediately! If the baby is born dead, he must not leave this world in silence, but with a prayer.”
The woman on the bed didn’t say a word. She only gripped the sheet with her fingers.
And then the midwife heard it again. At first quiet, like a distant whisper, then a bit stronger. A heartbeat… it was there. Weak, irregular, but there.
“He’s alive,” she breathed. “He’s alive…”
A struggle for every minute began. The contractions grew stronger, the woman screamed, the guards held her by her arms and shoulders, and the midwife did everything she could to save both mother and child. It felt as if time had stopped inside that cell.
Finally, after agonizing hours, the air was pierced by a small sound. First barely audible, then louder, stronger. A boy. Weak, tiny, with bluish skin — but alive.
They quickly brought him to oxygen, rubbed him until his breathing grew deeper. And then the room filled with the loud, desperate cry of the newborn.
The midwife closed her eyes, wiping sweat from her forehead.
“Thank God…”
For the first time, the inmate lifted her gaze — and smiled.
