Neela trots obediently after Matt on the way to the delivery, asking if they always drop everything and run whenever a phone call announces that tide is high in someone's birth canal. "Yep -- means some sick-ass baby is being born," Matt says glibly. Matt is the King of the Blithe -- Baron von Blasé, ruler of the nonchalant. Neela begs to do the intubation, if it's required. Matt's all, "Yeeeeah, you're hot under the collar for this, baby." "Okay, Little Gunnar, welcome to your first delivery," he says, barging into the birthing room. "Little Gunnar"? What the hell is wrong with these people?
Inside the room, an Asian woman is standing up with difficulty, bracing herself against the bed. A doctor has just caught the fetus that dropped from between her legs and hands it off to Matt. I didn't realize anyone but Terry Jones in Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life gave birth while standing. But then again, his character was doing the dishes when Kid #112 fell out, so I suppose that doesn't really count as a fair comparison. Matt takes Neela through drying off the gunk and warming up the baby so that it breathes and begins to cry. New babies are so gross. As long as I live, I don't want to see a squirming human covered in womb juice. I just don't. As they pink up the little boy, the mother pops out a twin girl. The father pokes his head over near Matt's to exposit that they were visiting from China when the babies came early. Neela has to go grab the second baby, which gets dumped like a limp blue rag into her arms. "This baby's not breathing," Neela gasps. We smash to black pretty sure that it's not breathing because it's a creepy-ass doll baby that looks like it was stolen from Rosemary. The only thing grosser than womb-juice babies are fake premature blue babies.
"Day Eight, 7:30 PM." Raab is back with some more insightful commentary, this time offering up the analogy that working NICU admissions is like running a marathon without training for it. Except not as stupid, and less likely to end in the eventual installation of artificial knees. "It's an endurance test for the patients, the families, and you," Raab says. "Eat when you can, sleep when you can, and when it's time to go home, get the hell out of here." She then grabs everyone for rounds as Veggie Baby's prayer group sings hymns by his salad bowl.