I breathed very slowly as if trying to stop tomorrow from coming.
Inhale…one…two.
Exhale…three…four.
I looked at my watch. Ten seconds.
The pain of the contractions was bearable now, but I knew a more treacherous agony would soon stomp along my lower back. It was a familiar pain that I experienced with Renée and Samuel.
“Renée!” I called from the sofa.
Although they had watched the movie more than twenty times, Simba managed to capture their undivided attention no matter how many times it played.
“Renée,” I called again. “Can you bring me a bottle of water?”
“Yeah,” Renée said as her eyes remained glued to the television.
She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. Renée was six years old and ever so helpful. She took pride in being an older sister, always looking after her three-year-old brother, Samuel and helping me around the house. Before returning to the make-shift theater in our living room, Renée glanced at my stomach to make sure everything was all right.
“Thanks, baby.” I said as I reached for the water bottle and pulled Renee close with my other hand for a quick hug.
I took a sip of water and lay back on the sofa.
I was tired of thinking, tired of contemplating, and completely tired of the situation. I watched the children as they lay on the floor pillows, snuggled in their blankets. Even though the sounds from the movie filled the living room, the townhome was unusually quiet--almost as still as the calm before a storm. Lynn, one of my three sisters, slept upstairs after working a double the night before. When she learned the contractions had started, she decided to call off from work and stay with me, just in case I needed to go to the hospital in the middle of the night.
I don’t know why, but I dreaded the coming hours. I had agonized over this moment almost every day for the past nine months. I changed positions on the sofa and tried to get more comfortable. I closed my eyes to rest, hoping I could finally make sense of it all.
