May, 2052.(Pregnancy and birth)(Short story)(Reprint)

"You're fortunate to be living in this era," says Nonna, brown eyes twinkling above the dimples in her wrinkled cheeks.

Rachel sips at the red raspberry leaf tea, the cup clinking against the saucer as she sets it down to respond. Her grandmother is already talking again. "When I gave birth to your mother," she goes on, "I was not allowed to eat or drink."

Rachel's eyebrows shoot up. "The whole time?"

"That's right. Back in those days, all babies were born in hospitals--even healthy babies. Laboring mothers weren't allowed a single sip of water. I was so thirsty my tongue was swollen and sticking to the roof of my mouth. After many hours, I was given ice chips, but even that was taken away when I was caught swallowing some of the ice to stave off the gnawing hunger."

"That's horrible," Todd interjects, dropping down to perch on the Victorian loveseat beside his wife. "Having a baby is like ... running a marathon. What athlete would attempt such a feat dehydrated on an empty stomach?"

Nonna chuckles at his analogy. "You're right, of course. But you see, laboring women were not treated like athletes. We were treated like sick patients, like there was something wrong with us. According to the doctors, our 'condition' was best treated with narcotics, opioids, and surgical intervention. By 2005, the c-section rate went through the roof, with nearly one out of three mothers sliced open for delivery. From the doctors' point of view, laboring women were all potential targets for expensive surgery. That's why they starved us."

Rachel scowls, rubbing puffy hands over the swollen full-moon belly. "But labor can go on for hours--or even days," she notes.