1 March 1990 - Crossroads Village, Ethiopia

Blood soaks the sheets underneath her legs as the doctor tries to see past all the carnage to deliver the baby. Her son has been breech for thirty minutes, and the pain was making her cry out.

“What’s wrong with you, woman?”

The man, her husband, stands beside the doctor, watching. “One child. That’s all I ask from you, Get my son out of there.”

She tries to pretend that he is scolding the doctor and not her; She tries to keep her heart from beating too hard, or her hope from flying too high.

“Push, woman, push!”

“No!” The Doctor shouts, “no more pushing!” The doctor stands and gets her attention, blood and other things covering him from his chest to his once-white shoes. He rips off his gloves. “The baby is caught. I will have to cut you open.”

Nurses and other helpers file in and out of the dirt room, taking filthy rags and trash out. Three women come in wearing baking gloves and carrying a huge pot of boiling water.