“Yeah, and the medical unit is busy. They’ll get to you when they get to you.” He was dragging me now, my wet feet slipping on the linoleum, pain shooting through me with every step. “This ain’t the Ritz Carlton, sweetheart. You think you’re the first bitch to pop one out in here?”
“Please—” Another contraction hit and I screamed, my knees buckling. Cooper kept his grip on my arm, kept pulling me forward like I was luggage he was annoyed to be carrying.
The blonde CO fell into step beside us, shaking her head. “Drama queen. Always gotta make a scene.”
They dragged me back to my cell. Threw me inside like I was garbage. LaLa jumped up from her bunk, eyes going wide when she saw the state I was in.
“What the FUCK is wrong with you people?!” she screamed at the COs. “She’s having a baby! She needs a hospital!”
“Medical’s been notified.” Cooper was already backing away, clearly wanting nothing to do with this. “They’ll send someone when they can.”
“WHEN THEY CAN?! She’s in LABOR!”
“Not my problem.” The door buzzed shut.
And just like that, I was alone. In a jail cell. About to give birth.
LaLa wasat my side immediately, helping me to my bunk, her voice a steady stream of Spanish and English that I could barely comprehend through the pain.
“It’s okay, mami, it’s okay. I got you. Breathe, okay? You gotta breathe.”
“I can’t—” I was sobbing now, tears and snot mixing together, my whole body trembling. “I can’t have her here. I can’t?—”
“Listen to me.” LaLa grabbed my face, forced me to look at her. “You CAN do this. You hear me? Women have been having babies since the beginning of time. In caves. In fields. In worse places than this. Your body knows what to do. You just gotta let it.”
“But—”
“My abuela was a midwife in El Salvador. She delivered over two hundred babies, some of them in houses with no electricity, no running water, nothing. She taught me everything.” LaLa was already moving, grabbing the sheets from her bunk, wetting towels in our tiny sink. “I know it’s not ideal. I know it’s not what you planned. But I’m gonna help you, okay? We’re gonna do this together.”
Another contraction ripped through me and I screamed into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound even though I didn’t know why. Who cared if the whole block heard? Who cared about anything except the fire that was tearing me apart from the inside?
“I called for medical!” a voice shouted from somewhere down the row. One of the other inmates, probably. “They said they’re backed up! Said it might be a few hours!”
“A FEW HOURS?!” LaLa’s voice was pure fury. “THIS WOMAN IS HAVING A BABY! ARE YOU PEOPLE INSANE?!”
No response. Just the distant sound of doors clanging, footsteps echoing, the normal nighttime sounds of the jail continuing like nothing was happening.
Like I wasn’t dying in here.
“It’s okay,” LaLa said, turning back to me, her voice softening. “It’s okay. We don’t need them. We’re gonna do this ourselves.”
Time stopped meaning anything after that.
I remember the contractions coming faster, harder, each one worse than the last. I remember screaming until my throatwas raw, then screaming some more. I remember LaLa’s voice, constant and steady, telling me when to push and when to breathe, her hands never leaving mine.
I remember other inmates gathering at our cell door, watching through the small window, some of them crying, some of them praying, all of them helpless to do anything but bear witness.
I remember thinking about Prime. About how he promised me I wouldn’t have this baby in a cell. About how he was probably at home right now, oblivious to what was happening, thinking I was safe and okay when I was anything but.
I remember the pain reaching a crescendo, becoming something beyond pain, becoming everything, and then?—
“PUSH, mami! Push NOW!”
I pushed with everything I had. Every ounce of strength, every drop of will, every prayer I’d ever whispered to a God I wasn’t sure was listening.
And then I heard it.
A cry.
