The Midwife


Another knock in the middle of the night.  Another frantic husband. Another baby, eager to see the world.  We calm him, send him home, then my partner and I make preparations.  We get on our bicycles and pedal through the night, to a part of town that has become familiar.  Even at this hour, there are people milling about in the streets, children screaming out of windows, trash and other unmentionable things littering the ground.

It is an easy birth.  No complications, no need for alarm.  On our way out, I take something.  Nothing special.  Just a small souvenir.  It won’t be missed in the hubbub of relatives of friends coming and going in the next few days.  Maybe it will never be missed at all.  When I’m alone in my room, I put it in my secret place, next to the photo of the baby I will never hold again.  It will never be enough, but the peace comes over me, as it always does, as I look at my collection.

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers


31 thoughts on “The Midwife

  1. What a twist about the souvenir! And a tinge of sadness about the photo of the baby she will never hold again. So much feelings in such a short story. I loved it, Jenn.

  2. Sad but wonderfully told story. It is great despite the fact she lost her baby she helps other women, especially those in need, deliver safely. It bothered me at first she was taking something, but perhaps, it has more meaning for her then they people’s whose item it was. Great job!

  3. Like the trophies of a serial killer, we have a serial midwife… what an odd juxtaposition. Tragically, I’m swept away in the concept of her retreating into her home when not working and staring at these trophies, overcome with melancholy.

  4. It must be so hard for her to see other mothers holding their new babies, knowing that she’ll never again hold hers. The taking of souvenirs could so easily be seen as sinister but it instead comes across as quite heartbreakingly sad when put into context. Very nicely done. 🙂

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