Labour on the dining table.

I am invited to a dinner party and end up next to a young girl who looks like she could give birth before the starter is served. Wise from experience, I don't comment on her condition but wait until she brings it up on her own. Then I act pleasantly surprised and pretend to discover her tummy for the first time. She is of course thrilled to be expecting her first child, just as I was. That magical combination of being part of the most universal course of humanity, while being such a unique and magical event in your own life.

-We are going to give birth naturally, she says enthusiastically.

-Really? What does that mean? I ask with interest.

-On our own. Just my husband and I, at home. That's him over there, she adds, pointing to an anaemic figure at the other end.

-How exciting, otherwise I've heard that you can get help from one of those Doulas, I say, showing that I'm neither judging nor out of touch with the present.

-No, we want to do it all by ourselves. As it was intended from the beginning.

-When women died like flies in childbirth, I respond before I can stop myself.

-It's my labour, she says abrupt.

-Absolutely. Sorry, I just get so nervous when people dismiss centuries of progress and call it natural. As if I would go to the dentist and refuse anaesthesia for a root canal.

-It's hardly the same thing.

-No, you're right. What does your husband do? I ask.

-He works at the National Land Survey, why? she replies irritably.

-So he's not much to count on if there's a breech birth, heavy bleeding or lack of oxygen?

After that we eat in silence. The dishes come and go. I feel a bit guilty that I didn't keep my mouth shut and just played along. Later, when the dance has started and I'm standing alone at the bar, her husband joins me. I think that this is my opportunity to compensate for my insensitivity towards his wife.

-So, I think your wife got a bit upset with me, I say.

-Yes, I heard, he replies.

-It was foolish of me to make comments ...

-Between you and me, he suddenly says in a low voice and grabs my arm. You're absolutely right. I can draw straight lines between properties, but I don't know shit about births or how to save lives. I'm fucking terrified of this.

Then suddenly his wife's water breaks on the dance floor and a doctor at the party offers to take them straight to the maternity ward at the nearest Hospital.

-You are saved, I tell the husband.

Much later I hear that they had a beautiful little daughter and that everything went well with the help of a wonderful midwife, nitrous oxide and an epidural anesthesia.