Sorry to keep you waiting

“I understand that” she said, “but I’ve been waiting too long.”

An oppressive quiet had settled on the department, even in the midst of usual busyness. The chatter and joking that usually fill the margins of our work was absent. Behind the pulled curtain a battle waged for the life of a perfect, chubby legged baby. Monitors beeped, hands pressed a tiny chest and squeezed the bag forcing air into struggling lungs. Parents cried and begged and then stood in a stunned and terrified silence.

I understand that, she said.

The baby died.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”