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“Where’s my mother? Please, I need her,” she begs.
I nod and quickly run to the other side of the house. Down below, the crowd in the auditorium is clearly talking about what happened, but I pay no attention to them. Instead, I rush straight to Marsha’s room, which is blocked by guards.
“I need to see her,” I say.
“We’re under strict orders from the president not to let her out.”
“Her daughter is in labor,” I bark.
This captures their attention. “Your authority has been revoked.”
I frown. “What?”
“Let him through.”
I turn my head at the sound of my father’s voice. “President’s orders.”
“What?” I mutter.
My father raises his brows and just stands there while the guards step aside. I have no time to decipher this gesture, and I don’t care if he thinks he can make up for all the years of hatred and abuse because he can’t. But I’ll happily make use of the circumstances by bursting into Marsha’s room.
She’s standing right behind the door, and by the looks of it, she was listening to the conversations down below. “She’s in labor, isn’t she?” she asks.
I nod. “She asked for you.”
I attempt to grab her arm, but she leans away. “I’ll go.”
No time to waste. I spin on my heels, and she tails me back into Natalie’s room where she’s wailing in pain. More of the matriarchs have joined and are sitting beside her on the bed and on the floor, praising her, giving her motivation to get through this.
And I’m standing here in the middle of the room, wondering what I’m supposed to do.
I feel lost. Helpless. Unable to do anything to stop the pain from ebbing and flowing into her body again and again, and it hurts to watch.
Natalie screams, and her mother comes up to me and pushes me a little. “Go. She needs to be alone.”
“Why?” I glance at my wife, who’s showing grizzly faces.
“Because she’s in pain, and you can’t help right now,” she says.
“But I want to,” I reply.
“I know,” she says, tilting her head. “But you can’t understand this pain. This is something women have to go through. But we’re here to help her.”
She gently nudges me, and my feet instinctively move. I don’t know why I’m compelled to listen to her. Maybe it’s because she knows more about this than I do. She birthed Natalie, so she knows what’s going to happen while I’m woefully unprepared.
Maybe it is better if I don’t stay even though I want to more than anything …
However, what she needs right now is not what I want or need, and I’m okay with that.
“She needs safety right now, and seeing you will only be a trigger,” Marsha says as she closes the door on me with a tepid smile.
And I’m left standing there, feeling utterly lost, while I clench my fist against the wood and pray my wife and my child will be okay.
Natalie
Hours feel like minutes, but it hurts so much that it feels as though I’m about to pass out every single second. I don’t know how much time has passed since it began. It didn’t feel like this the last time, but I didn’t get this far the last time either.
My last baby was cut out of me before I was prepared, before the baby was ready, but now … the contractions started on their own.
But I fear it’s too soon, too early. I’m not in my last month yet, and the baby is coming. What if it won’t survive?
“This isn’t possible. It’s too soon,” I mutter, at a loss of what to do.
“If it’s time, it’s time,” my mother replies. “Now breathe slowly.”
“No, I’m not, the baby wasn’t supposed to come yet, but Emmy—” I choke on my own words.
I can’t think about her. I don’t want to see her hanging body swinging from left to right.
I can’t. I physically can’t process it.
“Keep that out of your head!” Holly interjects. “Focus on your birth. Anything else will have to come later.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, grasping my belly. “Why does it hurt so much?”
“Those are the contractions, honey,” my mother says, clutching my hand. “Just squeeze.”
My fist tightens around her hand so hard I swear I might break it.
“You can do this,” she says.
“No!” I yell. “I can’t.”
“Is she that close?” Holly mutters, but my mother shushes her.
“Yes, you can do this, Natalie,” she says, sitting down way up close. “Breathe. Breathe in and out slowly.”
“It’s hard,” I mutter, trying to breathe through the pain. “Are there any painkillers?”
Ashley and Meghan shake their heads. “No, those aren’t allowed in this community.”
“Well, fuck me,” I growl. “Just my luck.”
Tricia snorts, but I throw her a look, and she immediately stops.
“You’ll live through this, just like you’ve lived through everything else,” my mother says, trying to make me feel better, but it isn’t helping.
