The Tiny Godly Gift

Note: This story contains minor descriptions of labor and birth which may be sensitive to some.

The weight of Asmara’s body had just begun to shift onto her right leg when a tight twinging sensation struck her right hip. Quickly, she pulled her right leg up, shifting her weight back onto the other leg instead, and threw her hand against the nearby wall for support. Her body had taken up a significant amount of growth and change over the past nine months and it had taken its toll on her muscles and ligaments. Limping gingerly over to the couches in the living room, Asmara took care not to put too much weight on her right foot and again upset her sciatic nerve.

She placed one hand on the couch nearest her, lowering down into a kneeling position before bending her right leg in front of her and sending her left leg out long behind. She relaxed the weight of her body over the right leg, her forehead delicately touching the floor—pigeon pose. Deep breaths began to flow in and out of her lungs. Each exhale allowed her body to sink deeper into the stretch, bringing relief to the sciatic nerve.

Many had expressed antipathy towards pregnancy and childbirth, but Asmara knew it was simply misunderstood the beauty of the natural right endowed upon only women. “If more people experienced or were able to witness the kind of objectively pure bond we have,” Asmara breathed in, “the world would be a better and safer place for you to grow in.” She exhaled, placing a hand on her ample abdomen, taking in the tender attachment increasing between the tiny growing infant and herself. Each respiration kindling within her an irresistible yearning to cradle the small infant in her arms. “But I will keep you safe, forever, and eternally.” She whispered.

~ ~ ~

Asmara stood at the sink, scrubbing dishes and gazing out the window ahead. Her mind filled with arbitrary thoughts. Within her the baby moved, kicking and jolting excitedly. Unconsciously, her hand swept gracefully to her stomach causing water to drip on her bare toes and soak into her shirt. Delicate suds adorned her fingers like wee splotches of foam. Feeling her soothing touch, the infant calmed.

Contractions started only a few hours ago. Stil too gentle to be a bother or worry about delivery, but enough for both mom and baby to know, life was about to change. Asmara took deep breaths, in and out, as another small contraction came on. Breathing helped her focus, but it also provided a message of calm which she extended to her baby. “All will be alright Little One,” she cooed. “I’ll get to see you soon!”

~ ~ ~

A low, even moan lengthened its way out from Asmara’s vocal cords and into the atmosphere as she alternated from lightly bouncing on her stability ball, to circling her hips widely, making room for her baby. Contractions had become more intense, but she rode them out smoothly by focusing on her breath and thoughts of rocking her infant protectively. Both hands sat at the bottom of her abdomen, supporting the tiny Godly gift as it worked its way down and out.

Her husband, Gelle, crouched next to her. He lay one hand on her thigh and the other on her lower back. Both sending messages of support, strength, and safety. Soft words rolled off his lips, expressing similar messages. “You’ve got this baby.” “You’re doing so good.” “Amazing, my queen. Amazing.”

The next contraction was strong, but Asmara leaned into the intense feeling, knowing it was bringing her closer to the tender moment where she would finally hold the little entity she had protected for the past nine months. She took a deep breath in, once again releasing it in a long, low moan. “OOOOOHHHHHHH.” As the feeling came to an end, a smile graced her lips—"even closer now, I’ll meet you soon.”

~ ~ ~

Contractions were stronger and closer together now, and Asmara fought the urge to clench her muscles, instead leaning into the tense feelings of labor and focusing on her baby. Fatigue overwhelmed her mind and body, but she fought through it, knowing the end was near. Somewhere nearby were the voices of her midwife and doula, both offering encouraging proclamations. But it was the voice right next to her, whispering sweetly in her ear, “Amazing, my queen. Amazing.”

Gelle had never left her side. He offered her his own strength, holding nothing but empathy and concern in both his gaze as well as his touch. Asmara accepted his offerings gratefully, wishing she could let him know all was well. But it took all her focus and energy to endure through the strength of tensing muscles.

~ ~ ~

Asmara had been laboring for hours, sleeping through the earlier stages, and focusing all her energy on persevering through the final, active stage. Finally, she felt the urge, the need to push the infant from her body. Inhaling deeply, she prepared herself, releasing the breath with the next inhale and bearing down with another long, low moan. This was it. Finally, she would see and hold her baby.

A small pause…and then another contraction, accompanied by the bearing down of another long low moan, allowing first the exit of the baby’s head, followed by the rest of its body. A high-pitched, urgent cry filled the room. Instantly, Asmara reached her arms out excitedly, panting from the work she had completed. Gelle lifted the baby gingerly into her arms, then knelt protectively behind her and his own babe. “Well done my queen.” He whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Congratulatory remarks came from her midwife and doula, but Asmara stared down at the tiny bundle wrapped in her arms. He was the only thing she could focus on now. “Hello Amadeus.” She whispered. “Hello my baby boy.” The shrill, desperate cry dissipated at the sound of her voice. His wide innocent eyes settled on her face, and he calmed, relaxing into her tender embrace.