Photo credit: Reuters
"Port-au-Prince is in panic mode," a friend in the Haitian capital texted me.
Residents of Petionville, a wealthier area of of the city, are shaken after their most violent day so far in the country's spiralling security crisis.
More than a dozen bullet-ridden bodies lay in the street - the victims of the latest gang rampage.
As well as the early morning killing spree, the home of a judge was also attacked - a clear message to the country's elites vying for power.
All this in what is supposedly the safe part of town.
Unicef's executive director, Catherine Russell, has called the situation in Haiti "horrific" and likened the lawlessness to the post-apocalyptic film, Mad Max.
Certainly the latest violence in Port-au-Prince is a reminder, if any were needed, that Haiti remains closer to anarchy than stability.
In that malaise, the UN has also estimated, because of the closure of so many hospitals in the capital, some 3,000 pregnant women were at risk of having to give birth with no maternity care.
We visited the maternity ward of Cap Haitien's public hospital. The first cries of Baby Woodley, just a day old, were the same as those of children born anywhere: for food and for comfort.
But as most children born there, she will grow up to find that such essentials are far from guaranteed in Haiti.
Lying in an adjacent bed, Markinson Joseph was recovering from giving birth two days ago to a baby boy. Through an interpreter, she told me that she would get her baby out of the country altogether if she got the chance.
"But me and my husband don't have the money to flee," she said.
Dr Mardoche Clervil, the hospital's obstetrician, showed us around dark and empty wards and said that the gangs' control of the roads in and out of Port-au-Prince was making it tough to find enough fuel to keep the lights on, or the ceiling fans whirring.
