While Eva was trapped in her own little world with the slow and soft beating of both her and her son's hearts to comfort her from the pain she went through, the medical team around her kept on working as their sounds formed a backdrop to Eva's own little world.
BEEP!...
The clatter of metal instruments being gathered back into trays and the steady [beep… beep…] of the heart monitor echoed out along with the sounds of a nurse taking quick note on a clipboard and the faint swish of curtains as someone adjusted the partition.
With everything going on, the doctor glanced at Eva with a smile on her gentle face and then spoke in a clipped but kind tone.
"You did beautifully, Miss Clarke. We'll deliver the placenta now, just stay relaxed."
"Haha!"
Eva barely registered the words of the doctor, due to being lost in the rise and fall of the baby's tiny chest, in the impossibly small fingers that curled instinctively around her own, and let out a short laugh. A laugh through her tears, a raw, broken laugh, as those fingers squeezed tighter.
A nurse, seeing Eva's state of mind, gently dabbed her forehead with a cool cloth, wiping away the sweat, while another placed a heated blanket over both her and her child. The soft rustle of fabric seemed to cocoon them, blocking out the sharp sterility of the room.
Minutes slowly passed away in a haze as the newborn's cries dwindled into faint coos and hiccupping sighs.
"Hhhk—hhk—"
Little whimpers rose, then softened, the baby's mouth rooting instinctively against the mother's chest.
"Go ahead and try feeding if you're ready."
The nurse softly spoke, adjusting Eva's gown with practiced gentleness. The baby latched clumsily, and a different sound filled the room: tiny gulps, wet and quiet, punctuated by small sighs.
The beeping machines, the antiseptic sting, the glaring lights—all of it faded into background noise. In that fragile, fleeting moment, the world belonged only to the two of them: a mother and a child whose first cries had reshaped the entire room.
---------
"Okay Miss Clark, we're not quite finished. We'll deliver the placenta now. Just a few more contractions, nothing like before."
The gentle voice of the doctor sounded out in the room and Eva subconsciously winced as her body tensed again. A duller ache rippled through her, heavy and dragging rather than sharp. She let out a low groan, clutching the baby closer, rocking slightly as if shielding the newborn from her own pain.
[Squelch—shhhk]
The sound was wet, visceral, as the placenta was guided out and collected into a basin with a muted clunk of stainless steel and Eva shivered at the sensation, a cold sweat breaking over her again.
"Well done, placenta's intact."
The doctor murmured with Instruments clinking as she moved them aside, allowing a nurse to quickly press a cool pad against her, the rustle of paper wrapping filling the air as another opened fresh gauze. The antiseptic sting returned, sharp and clean, mixed with the faint iron tang of blood.
Eva flinched at the sight of the blood-stained sheets, but her hand never left her baby.
The doctor spoke again, more clinical now. "You've got a small tear. We'll stitch you up—local anesthetic first."
The doctor spoke once again as she inspected Eva and then proceeded to prepare for the stitching of her wound.
Snap!
The new gloves snapped onto the doctor's wrist, followed by the swift sound of the sterile kil being opened, and the fine instruments caught the light, illuminating the room.
Psshh!...
"Almost done, you'll just feel tugging."
A syringe expelled a thin mist of liquid before the needle slid gently into place, causing Eva to instinctively hiss and clench her teeth while the doctor gently rubbed her shoulder.
Snnkkk… snk…
The sound of sutures being drawn tight was faint but distinct, like fabric being sewn and Eva grimaced, a soft moan escaping her lips, though her gaze never left her baby now dozing on her chest.
"Perfect, everything's closed up. Bleeding is under control."
The doctor said after a few minutes, stripping off his gloves with a final snap while the team began to clean up.
[Rustle, swish, clatter]
Instruments were swept back into trays, used linens bundled away, the metallic scent of blood giving way again to disinfectant's sterile bite. A nurse adjusted the monitors, the steady [beep… beep…] filling the air once more like a heartbeat anchoring the room.
The newborn stirred, letting out a soft "mmmhh… ahh—" before hiccuping. The sound made Eva laugh through her exhaustion, a weak but glowing sound.
The nurse returned, smiling as she checked the baby's vitals with a stethoscope that gave a soft tap-tap against the infant's chest. "Strong lungs, strong heart. A healthy little one."
Relief spread like warmth across the room. Eva sagged back into her pillows, cradling her child as if she'd never let go.
For the first time in hours, the room was quiet, only the newborn's soft coos and the background beep of machines remained, a lullaby of life in the aftermath of pain.
The flurry of activity slowly ebbed. Nurses moved with quieter efficiency now, voices lowered as though not to disturb the fragile peace. The metallic tray was rolled away with a faint [clink—rattle—squeak], instruments covered, the scent of disinfectant trailing after it.
"Both mom and baby are stable."
The doctor confirmed, pulling off her mask with a soft rustle. Her words were met with nods, pens scratching against clipboards.
Eva's eyelids fluttered as exhaustion pressed heavily on her, but she clung to wakefulness, her hand cupped protectively around the baby's back. The child shifted with a tiny sigh, mouth opening and closing in instinctive searching, cheeks brushing against her skin.
"Alright," a nurse said warmly, leaning in. "We'll move you to recovery now. Let's keep the baby right on your chest while we transfer."
The bed's hydraulics groaned softly as they adjusted the frame and unlocked the wheels while the doctor tucked the hospital blanket more securely over Eva and her baby.
The team pushed the bed into motion, and the wheels against linoleum echoed faintly in the hallway beyond. The overhead lights flickered past in a steady rhythm, sterile beams breaking into intervals of shadow as they passed door after door.
Eva's eyes drifted shut for a moment, the rhythmic motion lulling her, until the baby squirmed and gave a soft whimper.
"Nnhh…ahhh…"
Eva stirred awake instantly, pressing a kiss to the infant's head, whispering hoarsely.
"I'm here, I'm here…"
They entered the recovery room. Unlike the delivery ward, the light here were softer—lamps instead of glaring fluorescents, their glow warm and golden. The air was calmer, the scent cleaner, without the metallic tang of blood.
Swish!...
The curtains were drawn for privacy. A fresh blanket was laid across the bed with a comforting rustle and Eva sank deeper into the pillows as the baby nestled against her chest, small breaths puffing rhythmically.
[Beep… beep… beep…]
The nurse adjusted the IV stand and monitors as the beeping sounds continued, steady and reassuring rather than urgent now.
"We'll be checking your vitals every few hours,"
The nurse softly explained as she finished setting up everything before slipping out of the room, the click of the door muffled.
Silence settled. Only the hum of the air vent remained, blending with the quiet snuffles of the newborn.
Time slowly moved by until the newborn suddenly stretched, letting out a high-pitched "ehhh!", tiny arms flailing before tucking close again. The sound made Eva, who was almost taken by sleep, laugh through her exhaustion.
In that quiet room, the chaos of labor was only a memory—replaced by the fragile, perfect symphony of new life: soft breaths, faint heartbeats, and the steady hum of machines keeping watch.