The constant chatter. It was in front of me, beside me, above me, below me. All the rumors of the new government laws, but I simply didn’t believe they could be true. With all the deafening buzz it was easier to tune it all out. The rumors we were hearing were that of a tyrannical government, but that’s not our truth. That’s not our democracy.

At least, that’s what I thought. My husband lays on the hospital floor— sedated. My baby, my sweet newborn baby, that I didn’t even get to hold. All I could do was watch from the hospital bed as the midwife walked away with my child.

All I’ve wanted is a family. Now, that my moment has finally arrived, it’s been ripped my arms before I could even hold them. Know their gender. See if they have my blue eyes, or my husband’s dark curly hair.

“PLEASE!” I cried, trying to reach out to my midwife. But she was clear out of reach, and my body was stuck to the blasted bed.

Once the government announced that a family could give their child to them to be exclusively raised by government staff, there was chatter that it was only the beginning. That soon enough, the government would take our children by force. I used to laugh off the sentiment. Now, I wish I had done something. Believe them? Drink more alcohol? Start a protest?

Maybe I wouldn’t have had this baby at all.

Any alternative would be better than seeing my midwife’s sweat stained back walk out of the pristine white hospital room. Than hearing the aggressive beep beep of the heart monitor.

My legs, bloody and shaking, wouldn’t move. I put my arms on either side of the creaky bed to hoist myself up and out so I could get my baby back. I just spent the last 34 hours of my life pushing it out of me, I deserve more than two second of watching someone holding my hard work.

Two nurses hold me down, I can barely see a third coming back with a needle. My vision is so blurry from hot, salty tears that stream down my face like a waterfall.

“HELP,” I try again, there must be some humanity in these nurses.

A fourth nurse I couldn’t see before begins to caress my hair, slowly shushing me like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “It’s alright sweetheart,” she says iba sickly sweet voice, “you’ll be alright.”

I try to fight back, attempting to flail my arms, kick my legs.

“GIVE ME MY BABY BACK!”

But I am too weak, and the nurses’ grips are too strong.

One little pinch, and my world goes to black.