Martha did not recognize the doctor when he stepped into her room. He took one look at her charts and frowned. Martha asked what the issue was.

“Seems they have you in the wrong place.”

“No. I’m supposed to be in the maternity ward.”

He looked at her. “A mistake. But an understandable one given what your previous doctors knew at the time.”

“This morning?”

“It appears so.” The doctor stepped out into the hall. “Nurses, I need the patient in this room moved one ward over.” Two nurses came in. Martha thought their scrubs made them look like blood clots. It was not reassuring. She tried to think of them as giant cranberries. They removed the monitoring devices from her and started to wheel Martha’s bed out the door. 

“Where are we going?”

“A short distance. A minor change. Nothing drastic,” the doctor replied.

“Why shouldn’t I be in the maternity ward?” She held her belly. “I’ve been here a week. I thought we were supposed to induce?”

“Don’t worry,” the doctor continued. “It’s all very normal.”

“But why move me? What about my things?”

“The nurses will get them for you. Again, this is all regular. Part of the standard procedure. Just sit back and relax.”

Martha looked up at the ceiling and tried to count the tiles. She made it to seven on three separate attempts before stopping. The overhead lights were too disorienting. They glared at her like cars on a highway at night. The nurses pulled Martha through a room for premature births and she caught a glimpse of pink bodies wiggling inside of their incubators. She tried not to imagine her own child ending up there.

Soon they were in another hallway. The doctor called for a hard left, and the wheels of the bed squeaked. Martha covered her ears. They went through a set of white doors, followed by another that were red. She looked up and saw a sign announcing that they were leaving the maternity ward.

“Where are we going?” She asked a nurse.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”

“Yes, but fine where?”

The nurse pointed to a sign that read: GENERAL LYING-IN. 

They went through another set of doors and the staff parked Martha and her bed into an empty room. She looked around at her new surroundings. The walls were yellow instead of the familiar white. It was not overwhelmingly bright, but the paint reminded her of dirty teeth. Martha leaned back on her pillows and tried to get comfortable. Her gown itched and the fabric was riding up with the doctor would call her intergluteal cleft. She wanted to pull it out and down, but not in front of the other people.

Martha waited for them to leave. New tasks and minor crises kept presenting themselves. The staff had to reattach wires to her abdomen, sweep and disinfect the corners, give her a series of shots, take her temperature, replace her pillow, provide her with a vitamin to swallow, do blood work, and bring over her things from the other room. Through it all, they kept reassuring Martha that it was all normal, standard, and typical, promising her that although she was late, her pregnancy was, in fact, quite boring.

“Not that you’re not a top priority for us,” the doctor said. He pressed the button for a device near the foot of the bed. It started to release a beep every thirty seconds. 

A nurse continued. “You just don’t present a special case.” 

“Okay.”

“But’s that’s good too!” She rubbed Martha’s legs playfully. “You want to be like everyone else.”

“But not in the maternity ward?”

“No. Here’s just as good. Don’t worry. It’s all very normal.”

“Very regular?”

The nurse smiled. “Yes!”

The doctor smiled too. “You want to leave here with a baby. Not with something in a textbook named after you.”

They left but before she could adjust her gown, her partner Stanley came into the room. Their head was freshly shaved and glistening like the floors outside. They kissed her on the forehead. “I came as soon as I heard they moved you.” 

“Thanks.”

“I talked to the nurses. Your new doctor too. Seems it’s normal.”

“Seems so.”

“Nice and regular.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Part of the process.”

“That’s a new one.”

“How are we?”

They put their hand on her abdomen. Martha looked down. She held up one of the thins wires running from an electrode stuck to her skin. The wire ran off the bed and to a monitor that sat on wheels. “I look like an octopus.”

“I know. But it keeps us updated.”

“To see how normal I am?”

“Yes.”

A nurse came in to check on Martha. She gave her a menu for dinner. Martha just wanted something light and opted for a fruit salad. Stanley was there when the meal arrived. Martha ate it quickly and still felt hungry. She asked Stanley to go to the vending machine to get her something to eat.

“But you said you wanted something light!”

“Not that light.”

“You should probably eat something healthier.”

“At this stage, Stanley, it won’t matter. Unless I’ve got another week, or month here,” she started to cry.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get you something.”

“See if they have any ice cream.”

“Ice cream? In a machine?”

“Sometimes they sell it.”

“Okay.” He paused by the door. “If I can’t find ice cream, what should I get? You want candy?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything with nuts?”

“If they don’t have plain chocolate sure.”

“Milk chocolate?”

“Stanley, you can figure it out. Okay?”

“Fine, fine.” He left and Martha put the tray and container for her dinner aside. The nurses returned. One took them it away, another gave her an injection. 

Martha spoke up after the prick. “Oh, to move things along?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “What did you think it was?”

‘There’s been so many injections.”

“It’s part of the process. Don’t worry.”

“Normal for when I’m not normal,” Martha mumbled.

The nurses left and Martha spread across on the bed as much as she could. The gown was no longer an issue. She looked out her window. It was already dark outside. Martha found herself struggling to keep her eyelids open and her head upright. When she was able to look, she looked for Stanley. Martha worried that by the time he managed to find a frozen treat for her and came back to the room, she would be asleep, and Stanley would have a melted dessert on his hands. She tried to focus on the device that was still beeping at the foot of her bed. Something so regular and annoying was bound to keep her awake.

It did not. Martha woke up and the darkness outside was gone. She felt a warm patch on the bed where the sunlight had been lingering over her thigh. Martha stretched and looked around the room to see if Stanley had spent the night. They were gone, along with whatever they found in the vending machines. Martha got up off the bed and prepared to walk towards the bathroom that was attached to her room.

She knew the procedure. Certain things had to move with her. Martha reached out for the portable vital signs monitor in order to wheel it over to the toilet. It was gone. Martha checked her wires and they were gone too, along with the nodes that were once stuck to her. Her belly was flat and felt lighter. Martha pressed a button for a nurse.

Two of them came in, nearly getting stuck together in the door. The cranberry twins asked what was wrong in unison.

“Why are the gone? Where’s the beeping sound? Where’s my baby?”

A nurse fluffed her pillow and directed her to lean back on the bed. “Don’t worry. Please. It’s all normal. Everything went normal.”

“What did?”

“You’re a mother.”

“I am?”

“Yes,” the other nurse said. “Come on, let me introduce you two. Come in.”

Martha leaned up and put her arms out, ready to receive her child. She hoped her partner would accompany her child. Maybe all this time Stanley had been outside, welcoming their progeny into the world. The nurse left and came back pushing a wheelchair. A teenage male in a hospital gown was sitting on it. He was lanky, with unkempt hair, and a phone in his hand. He waved at her and returned to looking at the screen. Martha put her arms down.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s your son.”

“No. It’s can’t be!”

“Yes, he is. Can’t you see the resemblance?”

“He’s…old. He’s got a pimple. Pimples. He’s got fuzz on his lip.”

“Not every baby looks like they do in the ads,” the nurse tried to assure her.

“Fine. But not like this.”

“You can’t judge him based on unfair beauty standards.”

“What standards? That’s a teenager. You’re saying I pushed a teenager out of me?”

“Gross,” he said.

“Again, they’re not all going to look like the baby on a baby food jar.”

“The doctor made a mistake. Get the doctor.”

The nurses left. The teenager kept scrolling. “Really, how did you get here?” Martha asked him.

He shrugged. “I dunno. You brought me here. You tell me why.”

“What’s your name?”

“You have to give me one.”

“What?”

“They say I don’t get one until you give me one.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

She shouted at him. “You’re joking!”

He shouted back. “No!” 

“Well, I’m not giving you a name. Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to participate in this. This is some stupid prank.”

“How do you think I feel? One moment I was sleeping and warm in a nice place and then the next moment I’m out here and you people are yelling at me.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe you woke up from a coma or something.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

The doctor came into the room. “Ah, Martha, I see you two have met.”

“Yeah.”

“Your son. I mean, your child.”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?” He laughed. “There’s a no returns policy here.” He walked up behind the wheelchair and ruffled the young man’s hair in a playful manner. “Some disbelief over the process is quite normal. It can manifest itself as shock. Even resistance and denial. This is all regular. Part of the very common undertaking for many women.”

“Not like this.”

“Do you need to speak with a specialist?”

“You’re not a specialist?”

“I meant someone who focuses on psychology. Do you think you might benefit from therapy at this juncture?”

“I would benefit from seeing my baby. My actual baby. My real child. Please, you don’t have to cover anything up for me. Did something go bad?” Martha started to cry and put her hands together over her navel. “Just let me know what happened. This is worse than a joke. I’m going to sue you all.”

The doctor looked at the teen. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. I’m confused.”

“Martha, everything is fine. This is a very healthy child. You should feel proud. He broke all our records.”

“Yay,” he said.

“Get him away from me!”

“This reaction isn’t good for the child. Think about how he must feel?”

The young man looked at the doctor. “Yeah, why am I here?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Martha shouted at both of them.

“Martha, please. You don’t need to be parent of the year. We understand this is all new to you. But remember, it is nothing new overall. Martha, billions of women, billions Martha, have gone through this. Your mother, your grandmother, her mother, all part of one maternal chain stretching back to the beginning of the species. It is normal to be shocked at how our infants first look. It is normal to feel alienation at how different they appear. And yes, there is some feeling of resentment.” He turned to the teen. “I’m talking to both of you.”

“Cool. Cool.”

Martha wiped her eyes on the sleave of her gown. “Where’s Stanley?”

“Still looking for your ice cream,” a nurse told her.

“What?”

“You told them to find you an ice cream right?”

“How do you know?”

“They told us on the way out.”

“Where are they now?”

“According to our security cameras, Stanley is currently walking around the Nephrology Center. They found vending machines for drinks, candy, and chips, but nothing frozen for you. Their search continues.”

“Can I bring them back? Can you ask them to come back over the intercom?” 

The nurse looked at the doctor. The doctor thought for a moment. Martha could feel her gown starting to bunch up and make her uncomfortable again.

“The trouble is that we don’t have a code,” the doctor explained. 

“A code?”

“We use a color code to announce to the staff what’s going on. It keeps patients and visitors from panicking. Normally we use a hue and follow it up with a name. The alert tells people here where to go and why. Both doctors and nurses follow the system. It’s a very normal way to handle irregular situations. Most hospitals do it.”

“And what does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” the doctor said solemnly, “we’ve run out of colors. We don’t have one that tells Stanley to end the search for ice cream and come back to this room. Especially in a way that conveys immediacy without emergency.”

“I see.”

The teen put his phone down. “I’m hungry.”

The nurses and the doctor looked at Martha. Martha folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, and?”

“The natural process is favored by current literature…”

She shook her head. “No. Doctor. He’s got teeth! He can’t eat a sandwich or something?”

The doctor laughed. “At his age? No.”

“Come on, if you’re gonna bring me here, at least feed me,” the young male pleaded

The nurses helped the teen out of the wheelchair. They lifted him in their arms and carried him over to Martha’s bed. After putting him down, they turned him rightward towards her chest. His right arm was still holding his cellphone. His left one stretched out to his mother. The doctor and nurses applauded. Martha was confused.

“His reflexes are coming along nicely,” a nurse said. 

“Thanks,” the teenager replied.

“Well, do you have any questions?” the nurse asked Martha.

“A lot. A lot of questions.”

“That’s normal,” the doctor said. “Perfectly normal and regular.”

“Part of the process,” Martha said.

“Exactly,” they all replied.

Martha unbuttoned her gown. The young man’s head started to move towards her breast. “Maybe it’s all normal,” she wondered aloud.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s why I’m here.”

Someone tapped her shoulder. Martha shook her head and opened her eyes. She was back in a white room. Her old room. It was Stanley. Their thinning hair was back but there was no ice cream in their hands. Instead, Martha saw an infant, squirming and wrinkled.

“Hey,” Stanley kissed her forehead.

“Oh my God, I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay. You’re tired.”

She noticed her gown was still open. “I was trying to feed.”

“You were. But when you dozed off, I took the baby away for a moment. Do you want to try again?”

“Yes.”

Stanley carefully transferred the baby from their arms to hers. Martha slowly brought the warm body up against one of her nipples and felt the tiny mouth begin to suckle. Stanley brought a napkin over and started to dab Martha’s side.

“Sorry, some of the milk is dribbling.”

“We have a sloppy eater on our hands,” she giggled through tears. 

“We do,” he laughed. “We do.” He started to cough and said he needed to get another drink of water. Stanley ran the to the bathroom, cupped their hand under the faucet, and began to sip from it. Little of the water reached their mouth. Martha noticed the family resemblance with the baby in her hands. The room was filled with smell of something burning.

Martha looked around for a source and listened for an alarm going off in the hospital or one of the buildings across the street. She strained to look out at the hall. Doctors, nurses, and other patients walked by without panicking. Some of them were coughing just like Stanley. Martha gazed out the window. The sky was hazy and red. She squinted to look at the sun. It was a dark pink, like an areola hanging over the city skyline. Martha wondered if she needed to wake up yet again, until she felt another pang at her breast.