I remember walking to the bathroom it was clinical and spacious, the air was still. I sat on the toilet for no other reason but to escape the room I was in. Absorbed by peace I closed my eyes for just two seconds to catch a moment. I stood in just my underwear and looked down at my large bump, a peculiar feeling of sadness came over me leaving me sobbing into my clammy hands. Still teary eyed I stared in the mirror, a freckle I hadn’t noticed before on the tip of my nose snapped me out of the crying as I inspected it closely. I was distracted for that brief span of time just looking at my tired reflection in the mirror.
Soon enough the contractions were even stronger. The minuet of peace passed and as if it had never happened and I was back in birthing mode. Changing positions from standing to crawling
to kneeling on the floor, Luke rubbed his hands on the small of my back as I desperately searched for that control I felt I was losing.
Through these moments I felt powerful yet weak, strong but vulnerable. Anticipating the contractions I was dedicated to the pain – allowing my body to engage and focus on what was happening.
My breathing matched Luke’s. The sound filled the room as if it was the only noise to be heard everything else was silent as if we were the only ones there. No machinery not even the sound of the fan could be heard, at least not to me.
I couldn’t do this I convinced my self towards the end. I repeated this sentence over and over.
I begged for drugs
I felt defeated
and my legs began to shake.
I couldn’t do this.
The rest is a blur .. a hazy amazing beautiful blur.