Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
There's a brief break in the pain, and the tension in my muscles releases, allowing me to breathe. I'm about to tell the midwife to leave, when my stomach tightens in a vice grip, knocking the breath out of me. I can barely move, all I can do is focus on the ceiling as I attempt to breathe through the pain.
The midwife looks at me. "Another contraction?" she asks as she glances at her watch. "Let me check to see how far you've dilated."
She goes to flip the blanket off my legs and Marney bolts toward the door. "I'll just be out here for a bit." He's wants to help me, but really, there's nothing he can do, and he knows it.
I close my eyes. And all I feel is pressure as she checks me.
"Four centimeters. Your cervix has thinned out. You're ninety-percent effaced." She pulls the sheets back over me and pats my legs. "I don't think the baby wants to wait any longer."
No sooner has she said that than another contraction racks my body. It's all I can do to breathe. My entire body breaks out into a cold sweat and a wave of nausea comes over me. My fingers dig into my palms and I clench my jaw.
The midwife comes to stand next to me, blotting my forehead with a cool, damp cloth. "Try not to tense up, it will just make the labour last longer."
Hours pass, and with each passing minute the pain grows more unbearable. It feels like this baby is going to kill me before she comes out. The sun sets, and the pain continues into the night. When will it end?
All I can feel is pressure between my hips, as my entire stomach has tightened. I can't think of anything but getting this baby out of me. My skin burns as it tears, the pressure almost unbearable. I scream as my pelvis feels like it's being pulled apart, and then... nothing. I throw my head back against the pillow and try to catch my breath. I close my eyes, but they flash open when I hear a tiny garbled cry. I glance down and the midwife has the baby in her arms, suctioning out her mouth. She rubs the towel over her tiny back, wiping off the blood as she lays her on my chest.
I stare down at her pink face as she cries, at her tiny little fingers made into tight fists, and I cry. I cry because my heart feels like it's ready to explode, and I cry because I wish more than anything that her daddy was here to meet her. I gently brush my finger over her soft cheek and smile through my tears. I never wanted to be a mother, and the path that brought me here was like walking through hell itself, but I have known this little person for two minutes, and already the love I have for her is all consuming. I would do anything for her, die for her. She just became my everything.
I loved Jude with all my heart, but now I have to focus on our child. I need to let him go, for the sake of the little piece of him that he left behind, his daughter.
"What is her name?" the midwife asks.
I stare down at her wide eyes, not the green of Jude's or my steel blue, but the exact same shade of brown as Caleb's. "Cayla," I whisper.
Over the next few weeks, I feel happiness for the first time in months. There is always a lingering sadness that I'm not sure will ever truly leave me. Jude left a hole in me that cannot be filled completely, but every time I glance at Cayla, I feel like I just might be okay, eventually.
I stand on the balcony, holding her tiny body to my chest as I rock her to sleep. The setting sun paints the ocean in orange and gold. That view never gets old.
Her steady breaths resonate in my ear, her little fingers grasping at a stray strand of hair. I walk back inside and put her down in her Moses Basket, leaning over her and prying her from my hair. I smile and place a kiss on her forehead as she sleeps soundly.
I love her, but I feel like I might never know what it is to sleep properly ever again. I lay down on the bed for a moment and close my eyes.
Hands move up my thighs, slowly spreading them apart. Hot breaths touch my stomach as his lips drift downward, kissing and caressing me. My breathing becomes shallow, my pulse racing in anticipation. I tremble and moan as his lips brush against me, never quite giving me the pressure I need. My fingers fist in his hair, trying to bring him closer. A low throaty chuckle leaves his lips.