One More Push

I wasn’t normally a violent person. And I wasn’t someone who ever made a fuss. When I broke two toes at work no one had a clue I was in pain. I locked it all in until I made it to the safety of the bathroom. Unfortunately though, giving birth wasn’t something I could do on my own. And unfortunately for Luke, that meant he was bearing the brunt of my new found need to be violent.

Another shot of red hot pain tore through me, shredding me in two from the inside out. I gripped onto Luke’s hand, squeezing it so tightly I could feel his bones crunching under my fingers.

“That’s it. You’re doing great, honey.” His voice was higher pitched than normal. Strained. It made me squeeze tighter. He let out a howl. “Just breathe through it. You can do it.”

I tried to tell him to shut the fuck up, but I couldn’t get the words to form. Instead, my mouth contorted into another elongated grimace, like it had been removed from my face, twisted inside out and plastered back on.

“Nearly there, Niamh. I can see the head. Just one more push with the next contraction.”

I looked down at the young sandy-haired nurse stooped between my open legs, the plastic of her blue apron crinkling as she fussed at me. My body tensed involuntarily, poised, ready, and I slipped into the role of observer, preparing myself, stealing myself. The starched cotton of the medical gown I’d been whipped into due to the speed of events wrinkled and caught under my arms. Sweat dribbled down my forehead, collecting in my eyelashes. Next to me a machine clipped and beeped incessantly, churning out information on my inner workings. I was laid bare. Wetness flooding underneath my ass and soaking into the thin hospital sheet.

I wanted to shut my legs. Push the baby back in. Give into the exhaustion and close my eyes, just for a moment. But just as my head lolled back against the pillow, I felt the dull ache ignite again, deep in my lower back, radiating into my torso and down my outer thighs. With each fraction of a second it ramped up in intensity until an invisible hand thrust itself inside me, grabbing hold of my organs and squeezing, twisting, crunching.

It ached, burned, stung.

All the pain I’d ever experienced wrapped into one excruciating bundle of agony.

One more push. One more.

One.

More.