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As the winter months drew on, Christmas had come and gone. The days in Los Angeles didn't seem to understand the meaning of winter. Christmas was a hot day despite it being the middle of winter.
Myra's pregnancy grew until it was no longer able to be hidden. The media covered it all and even suggested Michael wasn't the father. She did a couple television interviews in attempts to put them to rest.
The baby had begun doing small kicks. Each small thing made them more excited for February. She eventually grew nervous when January rolled along.
By the time February came around, the due date grew closer. The twentieth grew closer and Myra couldn't wait to give birth to their child. It was only a few days away.
Michael stayed home when the due date was close. He too grew nervous. His mother told him to just stay calm, but he couldn't.
Myra took a warm shower. She rinsed the conditioner from her hair until it was all out. She turned the water off, and wrung her out before she stepped out.
She dried off before she got dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a maternity shirt. She went to leave the bathroom when a sharp pain passed from her stomach.
She leaned against the counter, taken aback by the sudden pain. She finally moved away from the counter to head downstairs.
She did her best to ignore the dull backache as she went to the living room. She laid on the couch, running her hands through her wet tangled hair.
"Are you okay?" Michael asked as he saw her.
"I'm fine," she confirmed.
"Are you sure?" He asked, unsure of whether or not ahe was lying.
"I'm fi--" she began but another of the same pains racked her body again.
"We're taking you to hospital," said Michael firmly as he pulled Myra to her feet.
She say is the passengers passenger's side as Michael sat in the drivers side. He started the car and pulled away from the house quickly.
Myra knew Michael drove fast from stories his mother told her. In that moment she didn't care as everything seemed to hurt. She gripped the side of the seat as yet another pain gripped her.
At the hospital she was whisked away to a room. Michael stayed in the waiting room, pacing back and forth on the tile floor. In that moment really didn't care if they saw his face, all he thought of was Myra.
"Mr. Jackson," a voice behind him caught his attention. "Your wife is in labor, and she would also like you with her."
Michael went to his wife's side. She lay in the hospital bed, relieved to see him. He sat in the chair, their hands immediately clasping together.
They didn't have much longer to wait then they would finally have a kid.
The thought hit Michael like a truck. The scene in front of him was real. He was going to be a father like he had wanted. He was going to have an actual child to care for in hopefully less than a day.
They waited in that hospital room until in the night time. The contractions grew worse and worse until Myra couldn't help but ask for an epidural.
Some time around eleven at night when both Michael and Myra were tired it was revealed it was tims for the actual birth. Despite them both tired they continued with it anyway.
When the first contraction came, Myra was instructed to push. She did as she was told until the contraction was over. It hurt like hell to say the least.
"You're doing great," Michael encouraged.
She was going to say something back but she soon felt another contraction. She pushed as hard as she could before it went away. She leaned her head back, already sweating.
"It hurts," she swallowed.
"It'll be over soon," he promised.
It was contraction after contraction it felt like for Myra. The doctors told her she was close to finishing but it didn't seem like it.
"One more," the doctors urged.
Another contraction pass and she pushed the best she could. The room was filled with silence for a brief moment before she heard it -- a small cry of a child.
Myra relaxed when she heard it. She wiped the sweat from her face and leaned back. It took hours but she had done it. She had actually given birth.
When they weighed the child and measured him, they wrapped him in a blanket. One of the doctors, wearing a pair of latex gloves, handed the crying child to Myra.
She took the child in her arms. He cried but soon quieted when his wide brown eyes fell upon his parents. Their parents faces lit up as they saw him.
"Do you two have a name picked out or do you need a minute?" The doctor asked for the birth certificate.
"Michael," answered Myra. "His name is Michael."
He doctor left briefly while they stood there. The child grabbed onto Myra's finger as she drew her finger gently against his cheek.
"We did it," Myra said as if it didn't seem real.
Just nine months ago she discovered she was pregnant. Years ago she met Michael. Then she sat there holding their child, and she wouldnt have it any other way.
