“Es un milagro, señora.”
“Es un milagro, señora.” It was getting late, and the clinic waiting room was almost empty. It was OB/GYN day, and the patients—predominantly Spanish speaking migrant agricultural workers—had all finally been seen. All except Maria, who was still in the exam room. Her six-year-old son, Joaquin, skittered around the outside corridor, under the watchful eye of the nurses preparing to close up shop. I was in the exam room with the doctor and Maria, and …