On an early March morning, a truck stopped in front of the maternity hospital in a village. Two guards got out and brought out a woman. It was obvious she was pregnant and in labor. She could barely walk, dabbling over from pain, clutching her stomach and lower back. “Hurry up!” shouted the guards. “Why couldn’t you wait until the city, you fool?” The emergency room erupted in commotion when the staff saw their unusual patient.

Midwife was examining a pregnant prisoner before giving birth – and saw something strange on her foot… It wasn’t every day they brought prisoners to their small maternity hospital to give birth. This one wasn’t even meant to be here. She’d gone into labor during transport to the specialized women’s prison.

Dr. Barbara Gibbs had just started what promised to be a quiet shift. All her patients had already delivered and she was looking forward to a peaceful cup of tea. Suddenly, word came from the emergency room.

“They’ve brought in a prisoner! So much for an uneventful shift!” The doctor went downstairs. The laboring woman lay half-reclined on the couch, quietly moaning in pain, with the guards and duty nurse hovering nearby. “Get her up for sanitation,” Dr. Gibbs ordered after a quick examination, nodding to the orderlies.

They lifted the woman onto a gurney and wheeled her away. The guards started to follow. “And where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Gibbs asked, surprised.

“You can’t enter the maternity ward. We have special protocols.” “We have our own protocols,” snapped one of the guards. “We must be present.” “Absolutely not!” Barbara exclaimed, blocking their path.

“I won’t have you frightening other mothers. This isn’t a prison. These are our rules.”

In the head doctor’s absence, I’m in charge. And I decide who enters and who doesn’t. “You don’t understand. She’s a prisoner. We’ve provided all the documentation.” “I perfectly understand. But first and foremost, she’s a woman giving birth to a child.”

“What if she escapes?” “Are you serious? She’s six centimeters dilated. Though I suppose that means nothing to you.” Dr. Gibbs shook her head. “I’ve made myself clear.”

“If we can’t attend the birth, we must handcuff her,” insisted the escort. “Trust me, it’s in your interests.” The woman didn’t bother asking why it might be in her interests. She just sighed heavily.

“Fine, let them chain her. I’ll call you later. Have some decency.” When they brought the laboring woman into the delivery room, the escorts handcuffed her wrist to the bed.

“Now leave,” Dr. Gibbs commanded sharply. The men left, saying they would wait in the emergency room. “You really showed them who is in charge here?” smiled young pediatrician Sarah Greer.

“I don’t need their interference here.” Dr. Gibbs muttered and approached the woman in labor, her tone softening to gentle warmth. She asked, “Now then, my dear, remind me of your name.” “Mia,” the prisoner moaned. “Mia,” repeated the doctor.

Her face flickered with emotion, paling momentarily before she composed herself. “Listen to me now, Mia. Forget everything else in the world.”

The baby is all that matters right now. His life depends on you. Don’t waste energy shouting.

Just listen to my instructions.’ The mother-to-be nodded obediently. “Woman, prisoner,” the words seemed incompatible with the young girl. No more than twenty, who now struggled on the birthing chair, handcuffed.

“How had she ended up in such circumstances? What had she done?” Barbara Gibbs caught herself sympathizing with this girl. And her child, a difficult path lay ahead for both of them. Brushing off unnecessary thoughts, Barbara began her work.

She spoke with clarity and confidence, encouraging the laboring woman, remaining attentive and professional throughout. Her voice instilled trust, helping to manage the pain, to endure it all. Women who delivered at this maternity hospital considered themselves fortunate to be in Dr. Gibbs’s care.

She was like a mother to them, her expertise and gentle hands having helped many children to see this world. Dr. Gibbs had been working in this maternity hospital for more than twenty years, since she returned from the city to work as a midwife. She didn’t need any regalia or medals.

She simply did her job well, earning only good reviews. But Barbara herself had endured a difficult fate that few people knew about. Thirty years ago, after graduating from medical school, Barbara got a job at a city maternity hospital.

Soon she married. Her daughter, Mia, was born, and Barbara was immensely happy. Barbara’s husband, Taylor, was developing a serious business at the time.

Though it was a difficult period, he was succeeding. The family lived well, wanting for nothing. But money, as they say, spoils people.

Soon, the once caring and attentive Taylor changed beyond recognition. He became rude to Barbara, would raise his hand against her, and often didn’t come home at night. One day, Barbara saw him embracing a striking blonde.

They were walking through the city, kissing. Even upon noticing Barbara, Taylor showed no embarrassment, merely smirking as he said, “What are you looking at? Go home, watch our daughter.” Barbara couldn’t even muster the strength to make a scene there on the street, her body stiffened with hurt, tears flooding her eyes.

At home, she tried to talk things through, but Taylor simply beat her. Afterward, Barbara wanted to flee to her mother in the district village, but her husband threatened to take her daughter away. He spoke with such conviction that Barbara dared not test his threats.

For several more years, she endured all his humiliation. When Mia was five, Taylor himself announced he wanted a divorce. He had met an attractive, well-off woman whose father was either a banker or a businessman.

“And you, hillbilly, get lost.” He laughed in Barbara’s face. Barbara, swallowing the insult, initially felt relieved at this outcome, but as it turned out, prematurely.

In court, Taylor took custody of their daughter. His lawyers fabricated a story painting Barbara as a negligent mother. The court stripped her of parental rights.

The devastated mother long tried to prove this was all lies orchestrated by her husband, but no one would listen. The story centered on an incident that had occurred a few months before the divorce. While walking in the park, Mia had run towards some bushes as her mother tied her shoelace.

Suddenly, her daughter screamed. Barbara rushed over. Mia had caught her foot on a wire protruding from the bushes.

The metal had cut into her skin. Barbara immediately took her daughter by taxi to a trauma center where they stitched the wound. Though the injury wasn’t serious, it left an arrow-shaped scar on her foot.

The lawyers inflated this story to incredible proportions, inventing several other instances of supposed negligence. They even produced witnesses. Barbara needed competent legal defense, but she was at a loss, not expecting such malice from her husband.

Taylor took their daughter and disappeared. Mutual acquaintances suggested it was pointless to search for Mia. Taylor had married that woman and moved abroad with her and the child.

Despite Barbara’s efforts, she could learn nothing more of Mia’s fate. She had no choice but to return to her mother in the village. There, she found work at the maternity hospital, where, for years, she had helped other women become mothers, though she lost that joy forever herself.

Barbara never remarried, rejecting all suitors. After her mother’s death, she lived alone, giving all her care and love to her patients. She treated every woman equally, whether rich or poor, high-ranking or a milkmaid.

All were vulnerable in their pain. All needed help. And they received it, just like this young prisoner.

When Barbara heard her name, memories of her daughter surfaced again. But why memories? She never forgot her for a moment. Now, her daughter would be the same age as this girl criminal.

Where was her little one, her own flesh and blood? Perhaps she had become a mother too? Dr. Gibbs shook her head, pushing away the anxious thoughts and focused on her work. “Mia, this is no way to do it.” She said sternly, and continued giving commands, “Breathe, breathe correctly.”

“Put your foot like this.” As she adjusted the woman’s foot, she saw something familiar. There was an arrow-shaped scar on the patient’s foot.

Though barely visible, Barbara needed only a fleeting glance to recognize the scar she could never mistake for another. It was the one she had kissed when her daughter’s wound had healed. She even dreamed of it.

“Mia,” Barbara whispered in shock, frozen in place. “Yes,” I moaned the woman in labor. “Is something wrong?” “No, no, everything is going well. You’re doing great.” Barbara came to her senses, noticing the surprised looks of the nurse and pediatrician. Nothing is certain yet.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Soon, Mia gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Barbara placed the tiny infant on her mother’s chest and watched their first meeting with joy.

“Daughter, my darling, Mia whispered, kissing the tiny fingers. I will not abandon you. I will not give you to anyone, my darling.”

The young mother cried so sincerely, so bitterly, that all the women in the labor room involuntarily squeezed their eyes shut. It was an unenviable fate for the newborn and her mother. Even if they were allowed to be together for a while, they would still be separated.

After all the procedures, mother and baby were taken to the ward. The convoy now permitted to enter and finally remove the handcuffs, intended to take Mia straight back to the colony and let the guardianship authorities deal with the child. Mia, sobbing, listened to this on the gurney, but no one paid attention to her hysterics.

“The bosses ordered it.” “How is she?” One of the escorts asked Barbara dismissively. “The patient is fragile and I won’t discharge her until morning at the earliest,” she replied, barely restraining herself from yelling at the insolent escort.

“But we have a hospital in the prison.” “She can recover there.” “What if her condition worsens during transport?” “No, I’m not letting her go anywhere.”

There was nothing to be done. The convoy yielded to the medics’ words, but warned that their colleagues would come to guard the ward today. Barbara was forced to agree.

She was tired of arguing. But where could a woman run after childbirth? She couldn’t even stand yet. Yet Barbara also had a superior and the law.

In the evening, the woman went into the resident’s room and tiredly sank into an armchair. All her thoughts were about the woman she had delivered today. Mia, could she really be her daughter? But why was she in prison? What had she done? Where was her wealthy father? Or perhaps that scar was just a vision.

She needed to check Mia’s foot again. Barbara reviewed the patient’s chart. Type 3, positive blood.

Same as herself. And the face. Now it seemed to Barbara that Mia looked just like her late mother.

After all, her daughter had inherited her grandmother’s green eyes and blonde hair. Could it be true? Barbara left the resident’s room and headed for Mia’s room. There was no convoy yet and the midwife quietly opened the door.

The young mother was asleep. Barbara cautiously approached, lifted the blanket and looked at the foot. Yes, that very scar.

Mia opened her eyes. “What happened? Something wrong with my girl?” She tried to lift herself up but winced in pain. “Hush, hush, sweetheart,” Barbara whispered.