Forward

Catalyst: Epidural Button Something is beginning, I think (Edited after feedback) spoiler - new title and ending. Good-bye. I tried to say, but I ... faded. He was so... mad. Always mad. Deranged, in fact, he needed... me. He needed help. While I lay on the table, when the heartbeat inside me, the one that was not mine, stopped. The missing flickers were so scary. He needed me to tell him he’s brave. He needed me to hold his hand. He needed me to say he was never alone. But breath escaped me, vision had long gone. He needed me to pacify his temper, unfurl his fists. --- I knew the pain would consume me and the baby. How he berated her when she gave me the choice. Undaunted, she took my hand, “Do I have your permission?” Just one word I had to say for myself, “yes.” I looked away, I did not even say good-bye. --- “Get out” she coldly ordered him, “Emergency policy. You are not allowed.” He was gone, the needle penetrated spinal cord and I sobbed uncontrollably. The nurse told me I’m brave. Words or morphine in veins - ensuing numb: membranes paralyzed one-by-one. She told me I was safe, I was not to be left there alone. The button was placed in my hand, Only I could say yes. I could say stop. I pushed; I counted: one...two...three...four... I saw myself down there motionless on the table, monitored. --- Strangers and machines. Steady flickers on the screen: still alive. How could I see myself down there, from up here? I felt safe though. I felt powerful. I felt tired. She tucked my blankets. She held my hand. I slept. Two doctors helped her, my hero in blue nursing scrubs. --- Flesh and bone welcomed me back within their practical boundaries. My fallen eyes reclaimed authority and rose to her gaze: vastly wild, a constant and endless blue like the sea. I still held the button; she still held my hand. She asked to build my power though she already knew: --- “It’s time, ready?” “Yes I am.” “Tell me, do you want him in the room?” I met her calm: “no.” Her smile was beautiful. “You are going to push now.” Contracting systems; actively expelling biome. Stretching, tearing me from the inside out. A vessel for miraculous to bare: Relinquishing rancor of pain, it did not matter. Goodbye – hello of roles; life’s goal redefined. Nothing I did mattered, not now, except to push. I was silent in anguish – breath too sparse - while I gave entirely to delivering until absolved of duty. --- Mucus-brine-sticky skin was lain on my naked chest: What a glorious, fierce world I have brought you to. I refuse all of tainted fortitude, shield of all harm. Now I understand pain: mechanical tension. Force needed to grow, gradually weighting the scale in relentless preparation of forthcoming joy. --- Rather shocked by wrinkled, purple skin, covered in fine hairs. Hard milky (pimples?) freckled a desperately screaming face; fragile rage. Ten perfect fingers, impossibly small. Doctors sewing between my legs. Tugging and pulling of thread, a flashing light urgently blocked. Door’s click. Shuffled steps. Strange doctors’ voice: “Meet your daughter.” --- “Hi, baby.” Dad. She had dad. That’s good. “You used an epidural, hopefully she’s okay.” My eyes dared shut again, Spilling over pooled tears. Doc. snatched her up from me, Something ordered about taking blood as they left, my arms still outstretched. What’s wrong why are they leaving? Don't take my baby! I can fix everything! “She is okay. They’ll be right back.” She had covered me, washed me. I could not. I suppose reality was faster than I felt as I unwittingly held my breath until they had returned. Door’s click. Shuffling Strange doctors’ voice: - - - “Perfect bill of health. Congratulations” Everything was perfect. Almost. He looked so proud holding her I yearned to embrace them; Steadfast our claim to love long failed. She wasn’t crying in his arms. I relished the fantasy then, in mournful goodbye, Quietly set to getting my body sitting. Proper, stoic, I feigned in blood-stained hospital gown. My crown raised, my ready gaze…casting down. One…two…three…four…ready now. Ready gaze, steady voice: “Give her back now. My parents will pick us up.”

I'm so sorry but I'm a little lost 😅😅 I know that she gave birth to a girl and she didn't want her partner in the room. But like what's happening? Is the baby being taken away from her? So sorry I'm a little slow 😅

What an intense piece, between fear, pain and a mother's instinct to protect her child. Vulnerable and captivating. Nicely Done!!!

Absolutely stunning piece. I felt every step, every push, and every moment of awe. Your words linger long after reading.

🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀 WOW 🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀

Such an intense and moving piece. The emotions come through very clearly, especially the struggle between fear, pain, and the instinct to protect the child. The voice feels very honest and vulnerable. It stayed with me after I finished reading.

I love the way you move between fear, pain, and strength. Such an intense piece, I loved it.