Britain's maternity ­service is in meltdown as a chronic shortage of midwives leaves baby wards at breaking point.

Despite a birth-rate at a 42-year high the Government is shutting labour units and failing to provide the extra 4,700 midwives experts say are needed.

The Sunday Mirror this week spent 24 hours inside the maternity unit at ­Mayday Hospital in Croydon, South London, one of the busiest labour wards in the country, criticised in a devastating report by the Care Quality Commission over the deaths of five babies.

As our diary reveals, our investigation found that midwives trying to rebuild the ­hospital’s reputation are crying out for more help...

Six midwives arrive to start a 12-hour shift on the 13-bed labour ward, which handles 5,000 births a year – up 10 per cent on 2008.

A consultant and surgeon are in charge and most of the staff won’t take a break until 5pm.

Other midwives are working on post-natal and ante-natal wards but one has phoned in sick.

The hospital employs 138 ­midwives working across five units and out in the community. But so many babies are being born they are advertising for more staff.

However, a lack of qualified people in the area means they are headhunting from hospitals in Scotland.

Those midwives clocking on lace up their trainers and pour a large coffee. A cleaner mops blood from one of the labour rooms after a delivery in the early hours which one doctor called a “bloodbath”.

Four women are currently in labour and fathers-to-be pace anxiously. The phones never stop ringing.

Consultant Britt Clausson, above , who runs the unit, moves midwives into position like an air-traffic controller.

“We desperately need more,” she says. “But when you tell managers they say ‘there isn’t the money’. We try to deliver one-to- one care, but it is not always possible.”

Screams ring out from a room where first-time mum Sarah O’Shoughnessy, 29, above , is giving birth. Her baby’s heart rate has dipped and her midwife rings for support. Two run in and within minutes Sarah is taken to a theatre. Husband Sean, 29, below , looks on helplessly. All he can do is wait.

The 23-bed post-natal ward, where mothers go after giving birth, is full. The three midwives each have up to eight mothers and babies to look after.

The sound of a baby crying from the operating theatre brings tears of joy as news arrives Sarah has given birth to a healthy boy. Proud Sean bursts in, tears streaming, to thank staff.

Surgeon Ebrahim Furough wipes sweat from his brow after performing a difficult operation to save a baby’s life – the third caesearean section he has ­performed since 9am.

Mr Ebrahim, 46, is one of thousands of foreign staff propping up Britain’s baby wards. A former child soldier in Iran, he fled in his teens after seeing his brother executed in front of him but is now living his dream of working in the NHS.

He says: “Thankfully mother and baby are fine. Every day we witness miracles.”

The doors to the labour ward burst open and two paramedics run in with a teenage girl screaming in pain on a stretcher. Just minutes ago Gemma Poole, 19, had been enjoying lunch in a pub on Croydon High Street with her family when she went into labour.

A midwife talking on the phone cuts the call and runs. She barely has time to get Gemma on to a bed before the baby ­arrives. “I was petrified when I was in the back of the ambulance,” Gemma says, cradling her son James. “But the midwives really calmed me down. They’ve been wonderful.”

Josie Russell, who provides ante-natal care in the community, arrives to brief staff about women in the area who are due to give birth soon.

“I’ve worked in the NHS for 30 years but this is the busiest I have ever known it,” says Josie, 55. The workload is so high that midwives in Croydon need to use a suitcase to carry round the paperwork during their home visits.

A rare quiet moment. Among those in the staff room is an anaesthetist working a 24-hour shift, grabbing sleep when she can. “Earlier this year I worked 20 hours without a break because we had to perform 10 C-sections in one day,” she says.

One midwife, recruited from Scotland, says: “Labour wards in England don’t have the same investment as in Scotland. Sometimes I will work flat-out for 12 hours without a break.”

Another adds: “Investment needs to be spent on post-natal care. More time needs to be spent with mothers after they have their children, to provide support. Extra beds would allow mums to stay in hospital longer, too.”

A student midwife says 23 out of the 40 people on her course have dropped out due to the pressures they face when they arrive on the ward.

For the men it is difficult to know quite what to do. Craig Tucknott, 29, is holding partner Michelle’s, above ,  hand as she screams in pain. She’s asked him to count how long her contractions last. “That was 55 seconds, Michelle – so they are still not lasting that long,” he says.

 “Really? It’s 54 seconds too f****** long if you ask me!” she snaps. Midwives burst out laughing. This helps to relax Michelle, 25, and within two hours baby Maisy arrives safely.

Five midwives arrive to take over, but there’s no time for a cuppa. Three women are in labour, two are about to be brought down from ante-natal and two more women have just rung to say they are on their way in.

There’s concern on the ward as a woman who gave birth earlier in the day is rushed to intensive care. She had an operation to have the placenta removed but suffered a very rare reaction to drugs given to her. Doctors haven’t seen such a case in 17 years.

Worried midwives page a consultant to examine a woman ­demanding a C-section. The 26-year-old has had two miscarriages and is terrified something has gone wrong after being on the ward for hours. Doctors advise her it would be safer to have a natural birth. “We are making life-and-death decisions every night,” a midwife says. “Even if you are tired and feel under pressure you need to stay calm.”

A 36-year-old mum cries tears of joy as her new daughter is placed in her arms. She’s been trying to have a baby for 16 years. Her grandparents burst in with flowers and balloons. She’s the ninth baby to be born on the ward so far today.

The ward is a mile from a Home ­Office immigration centre, which throws up more ­challenges.

Two of the mums on the ward don’t speak ­English and are HIV-positive, which means they require ­specialist care to ensure the safety of them and their babies. Some mothers also refuse to be treated by male doctors on religious grounds.

“Immigration has ­definitely placed an extra strain on the ­service we provide,” one midwife says.

The phone finally stops ringing... so midwives scrub down labour rooms in a big clean-up. But they are soon interrupted.

Panic as a midwife runs in shouting for help. Natalie Rigg, 44, has gone into labour in the ­car park. Midwives sprint out with towels and medical ­instruments. They try to move the ­mother inside, but the baby is born in the back of a ­Vauxhall.

Father Mel, 50, is shell-shocked as his son Gabriel is put in his arms.

Two more babies are born, bringing the total in the past 24 hours to 12. The post-natal ward is full and two new mothers are in the labour ward. A new team of midwives start their day.

Among them is Karen Allsop, who isn’t surprised at the dozen new ­arrivals. “I can’t ­remember the last day we weren’t busy,” she says, rolling up her sleeves. “Our motto is ­expect the unexpected.”