The Midwife - (Episode 3 of 4) - "The Judgement"

[ominous music] Mrs. Holloway's hands were gentle on my belly.

"She's positioned beautifully," she said, pressing here and there with practiced fingers.

"Head down, spine along your left side, a textbook presentation.

You should be very pleased." I lay on my back on the living room couch, trying to keep my breathing steady, trying not to flinch every time she touched me.

Ben sat in the armchair across the room, watching with that expression of warm reassurance he'd been wearing since we arrived in Coldbrook.

He didn't know.

He couldn't know, not yet.

"Your blood pressure is a little elevated," Mrs. Holloway continued, wrapping the cuff around my arm.

"Have you been sleeping well?" "Well enough." "And eating? You're getting enough protein, iron?" "Yes." She studied my face with those sharp, assessing eyes.

"You seem tense, dear.

Is something troubling you?" Everything, I wanted to say.

You're troubling me.

Your hands on my body are troubling me.

The fact that my husband doesn't know he was stolen at birth is troubling me.

"Just ready to be done," I said instead.

"The last few weeks are always the hardest, right?" "They can be." She removed the blood pressure cuff, made a note in her little book.

"Some mothers find the waiting unbearable, the uncertainty, the loss of control.

They feel like their bodies have been taken over by something they can't predict or manage." "That's a common feeling, I think." "It is, and for some mothers, it's just a phase, a few weeks of discomfort before the joy of holding their child, but for others..." She paused, her pen hovering over the page.

"For others, it's a warning sign, a signal that perhaps they're not quite ready for what's coming." The room felt colder.

I sat up slowly, pulling my shirt down over my belly.

"What do you mean?" "I've been delivering babies for 40 years, Rachel.

I've seen every kind of mother, the naturals who take to it like breathing, the learners who struggle but grow, and the ones who..." She set down her pen.

"The ones who shouldn't have children at all." "That's a harsh judgment." "Is it? I don't think so.

I think it's honest.

Some women aren't meant to be mothers.