bent over me. Her light eyes were round with worry, but she kept smiling reassuringly and prattling in French. I grabbed her hand and held on for dear life until she began to scream with pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Here, take mine,” Archie offered, and I grabbed onto his hand with all my strength. I could barely see or hear anything by that point. All my awareness was concentrated on what was happening inside my body, all my senses attuned to my womb. My belly was heaving, and suddenly I let out a primal, low scream. My pelvic bones felt as if they were being pried apart. The pain was so unbearable that I could no longer even speak. I was roaring with agony as I bore down to keep my bones from breaking. Archie’s arm was covered in scratches, but he didn’t peep as he tried to talk to me.
“It can’t be long now. It must be coming.” I stared at him in alarm. Was it really possible for the baby to come so quickly? Labor usually lasted for hours, but I couldn’t survive hours of this; it was too intense. My back felt as if it would snap from the tension, and the acute pain of the contractions seemed to have morphed into pressure.
I slid my free hand between my legs and felt the hard, smooth curve of the baby’s skull. It was just the top of the head, but it was obviously time to push. My body knew what to do, and I pushed as hard as I could. I felt terrible pressure building up in my body as nothing happened. I continued to push, but the head seemed to be firmly lodged in the perineum. I didn’t know it was possible to feel such pain. I was being torn apart, eviscerated. I was no longer screaming, but growling, which scared Elodie, who fled the room in tears.
I wasn’t even aware of Hugo until his face loomed above me. He was white to the roots of his hair, but it wasn’t rice powder; it was shock. He was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear him above the roaring in my ears. I was dying; I knew it. I was a throbbing, raging, nucleus of unbearable pain. I was completely incoherent as my body heaved with every push. Archie was behind me now, supporting my back as Hugo pushed my legs apart. His hands were slick with blood as I arched my back and roared, giving this push everything I had. The baby slithered out of my body into Hugo’s waiting hands as I collapsed back against Archie, crying and shaking. The pain had receded somewhat, but my tender tissues were on fire from being stretched so much. I couldn’t even move my legs. They were bouncing on the bed from the strain that my body needed to release. I felt as if my spine had been broken in two, and my head ached terribly from the pressure of pushing.
Hugo left the baby between my legs as he reached for Archie’s dagger and cut the umbilical cord, severing the child from me. He wrapped the baby in a blanket and held it, unsure of what to do next.
“You must clean its mouth and nose,” Frances said forcefully as she swept into the room. She took the baby from Hugo and went about gently cleaning its face with a damp handkerchief. Only a moment ago I had been relieved to feel less pain, but now my heart was hammering, tears running down my face as I tried to see around Frances.
“It’s not crying,” I wailed. My voice was raspy from screaming, so my cry came out as a whisper, but I didn’t care. “It’s not crying. Please make it cry.” I was thrashing again, trying to get to my baby. Frances looked terrified, confirming my worst suspicions. I watched, horrified as she unwrapped the blanket and slapped the baby on the bottom. There was a stunned moment of silence before the baby began to scream in outrage, its face turning purple from crying. Mucus flew from its nostrils and mouth as it screamed, but I didn’t care. It was alive, blessedly alive. Frances threw me a look of apology as she wrapped the baby back up and handed it to me. I
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Here, take mine,” Archie offered, and I grabbed onto his hand with all my strength. I could barely see or hear anything by that point. All my awareness was concentrated on what was happening inside my body, all my senses attuned to my womb. My belly was heaving, and suddenly I let out a primal, low scream. My pelvic bones felt as if they were being pried apart. The pain was so unbearable that I could no longer even speak. I was roaring with agony as I bore down to keep my bones from breaking. Archie’s arm was covered in scratches, but he didn’t peep as he tried to talk to me.
“It can’t be long now. It must be coming.” I stared at him in alarm. Was it really possible for the baby to come so quickly? Labor usually lasted for hours, but I couldn’t survive hours of this; it was too intense. My back felt as if it would snap from the tension, and the acute pain of the contractions seemed to have morphed into pressure.
I slid my free hand between my legs and felt the hard, smooth curve of the baby’s skull. It was just the top of the head, but it was obviously time to push. My body knew what to do, and I pushed as hard as I could. I felt terrible pressure building up in my body as nothing happened. I continued to push, but the head seemed to be firmly lodged in the perineum. I didn’t know it was possible to feel such pain. I was being torn apart, eviscerated. I was no longer screaming, but growling, which scared Elodie, who fled the room in tears.
I wasn’t even aware of Hugo until his face loomed above me. He was white to the roots of his hair, but it wasn’t rice powder; it was shock. He was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear him above the roaring in my ears. I was dying; I knew it. I was a throbbing, raging, nucleus of unbearable pain. I was completely incoherent as my body heaved with every push. Archie was behind me now, supporting my back as Hugo pushed my legs apart. His hands were slick with blood as I arched my back and roared, giving this push everything I had. The baby slithered out of my body into Hugo’s waiting hands as I collapsed back against Archie, crying and shaking. The pain had receded somewhat, but my tender tissues were on fire from being stretched so much. I couldn’t even move my legs. They were bouncing on the bed from the strain that my body needed to release. I felt as if my spine had been broken in two, and my head ached terribly from the pressure of pushing.
Hugo left the baby between my legs as he reached for Archie’s dagger and cut the umbilical cord, severing the child from me. He wrapped the baby in a blanket and held it, unsure of what to do next.
“You must clean its mouth and nose,” Frances said forcefully as she swept into the room. She took the baby from Hugo and went about gently cleaning its face with a damp handkerchief. Only a moment ago I had been relieved to feel less pain, but now my heart was hammering, tears running down my face as I tried to see around Frances.
“It’s not crying,” I wailed. My voice was raspy from screaming, so my cry came out as a whisper, but I didn’t care. “It’s not crying. Please make it cry.” I was thrashing again, trying to get to my baby. Frances looked terrified, confirming my worst suspicions. I watched, horrified as she unwrapped the blanket and slapped the baby on the bottom. There was a stunned moment of silence before the baby began to scream in outrage, its face turning purple from crying. Mucus flew from its nostrils and mouth as it screamed, but I didn’t care. It was alive, blessedly alive. Frances threw me a look of apology as she wrapped the baby back up and handed it to me. I
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