Note: I am very thankful for modern medicine, I have had two natural births in hospital settings and they were excellent. This is purely my imagination, I think.
My sister is scheduled for an induction tomorrow. So assuming that baby doesn’t come tonight, she will be heading the hospital in the morning to give birth.
So I was just sitting outside, a light breeze blowing. The air chill and fresh, but warm for January. Thinking about the new life that will come into the world soon. Thinking about how, after the miscarriage that almost took my life, I have decided not to have more children. And then I had a scene play through my head.
There I was, in the woods, a forest. Surrounded by trees. Leaves and moss under my feet. Wet sliding down my thighs. A familiar surge in my stomach. I kneel on the ground, it’s soft and squishy from rain. My knees sink into the mud below. I put hand on the old tree in front of me, the other cradling my bulging abdomen. I inhale, air gulped into my lungs. I can taste the mixture of pine, dirt and blood. I scream, birds fly from the tops the trees, chirping and cawing as they settle in the distance. A deer comes near, gazing at me, with an understanding bow of its head, it moves on. I scream again, alone in the forest, ache moves through my body. I place my hands on the ground and dig into the soft dirt, holding onto the earth. Grass and mud between my fingers, I push. I reach down between my legs and feel the small head that is burning to breathe. I put my forehead to the ground, and slowly rock my body back and forth, I suck air in deep breaths. Tears and sweat run down my face, droplets on grass blades. The wind blows and whispers across my back, almost there. Another scream, teeth gritting, another push. A tiny, soft body in my hands. A cry, a first breath. I bring her to my chest. She’s warm and smells so sweet. I lean against the pine tree, she finds my breast. She starts to nurse, and I watch the blood melt into the Earth.