Young

"Come on. Push a little harder."

The nurse coaxes.

She let's out a pained groan.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do this." she pants and falls back into the pillow behind her. "I'm tired."

"No, no. You can't be tired. Come on, just one last push." The nurse dabs her olive skin with a cotton pad, soaking up her sweat. She pushes a few damp strands of hair behind her small ear and looks to the midwife positioned between the young woman's legs. They exchange nods.

"Come on, sweetie. Your baby's getting tired."

The young lady turns her head away from the nurse to the other side and repeats this twice. Her eyelids are dropping, her brown eyes are unfocused and her gaze, wandering.

"You can't give up yet. I know this is difficult but you need to make your nine months and twelve hours of labour worth it." She takes the lady's hands in hers and clasps it, giving her a encouraging smile, "Come on."

After a few moments of cajoling, the young lady's hand gripped the metal railing of the hospital bed with unfathomable strength, and squeezed. Whether or not the elderly nurse screamed because her hand was being crushed was hard to tell when the lady parted her lips and let out a scream. With her brown eyes squeezed tightly shut, she gave her all into a final push. She let out a mighty moan that could rival that of a walrus when she felt it.

When she felt the baby slip out of her being and into the waiting arms of the mid wife. Excited cheers filled the air around her and soon, she heard the baby's cry.

No, not the baby.

Her baby.

She breathed a sigh of relief at that realization and with a small smile on her face, fell upon the pillow behind her.

The hand that held hers shook animatedly, "You did it."

She nodded, tiredly and smiled a little wider.

Twelve hours of painful labour suddenly took it's toll on her and she closed her eyes, exhausted. The tears in her eyes slipped through her closed eyelids and rolled down into her ears.

Finally.

The hand that clasped hers shook once again but she couldn't find the strength to give it even a little squeeze or lift a finger.

She was tired.

The hand wretched away from hers and then, two warm hands gripped her sweaty shoulders, shaking her.

"Valerie?"

She opens her eyes, but she could only make out a blurry female figure in white. She blinks again but it's even blurrier. She feels to weak to keep her eyes open.

"Valerie."

"She's bleeding!"

"Call the doctor!"

"...an extra blood bag!"

"...losing too much blood!"

"...beats per minute and vitals are...!"

"... too young and teenage..!"

"...don't let her fall asleep!"

She can feel the exhaustion seeping into her, numbing her. She can hear the shuffling of feet and feel the bustling movement around her. Somewhere distant, she hears the cry of a baby.

"She's going into shock!"

The exhaustion takes her.

"Valerie!"

***

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Would someone turn that darn alarm off?

Beep

Beep.

Beep.

I try to lift my hand to turn the alarm off but it feels like there's a heavy weight on my entire body. It feels like I have coltar running through my veins and iron rods for bones. My eye lids are heavy and my whole body aches all over, like I got hit by a truck - that's how I imagine it would feel anyway.

I open my eyes a few moments later and immediately shut them when light blinds me. After a few more tries, I'm my eyes are wide open and I take in my surroundings.

I'm a hospital ward.

Tucked into a bed.

I'm the only one in the room.

Assessing my arms, my gaze travels from the tubes attached to them and my chest to a heart monitor and other...equipments at my sides.

I frown.

My gaze falls back down to my stomach and as quick as finger snaps, I remember.

I was pregnant.

My baby!

I slide my arms up my sides to my stomach. It was round, weighted and protruding a few days back but now, it felt like a deflated balloon.

I clutch the light blanket over my abdomen and furrow my brows trying to recall anything.

And I do.

I recall giving up.

My eyes snap open.

Did I...? Did my baby survive? Or is it...?

My thoughts lead to a place I'd rather not be and my heart beat triples, the heart monitor beeps louder.

A second later, the door flies open and a nurse and doctor rush to my side.

"Valerie?"

The doctor takes her flash light and peers into my orbs.

I slide my hands from my middle to the oxygen mask over my face. The nurse's warm hands clasps my wrist.

"It's okay," he comforts and lets go of my wrist.

"Follow my finger." the doctor lifts her slender index finger from right to left and I follow it with my eyes.

"Good." she comments and leans down a little. "Any ear aches?"

I shake my head.

"Any dizziness?"

I shake my head again.

She gives me a small smile and looks to her colleague.

I take to opportunity to lift the oxygen mask a little and croak out, "My baby."

My throat feels like hollow, empty rusted tin can left in the desert and my tongue feels heavy and it's movement feels like sandpaper.

The medics eyes soften and the nurse pours me a glass of water from a jug beside me. The bed starts moving upwards gently and soon, I'm in a sitting position. The doctor takes the oxygen mask off and the nurse feeds the water to me, a little sip at a time. It's so refreshing and I take the time to swish it around my desert mouth.

Someone knocks on the door and an older nurse walks in. She looks familiar and greets me with a motherly smile.

"Here." She carefully places the wrapped bundle in my arms; it's warm and tears prick my eyes. "He waited patiently the six days his mother was unconscious."

I draw the shawl back a little more and my breath hitches.

My God.

The tears need no invitation as I lean down and press my lips on the forehead of the sleeping infant.

He awakes and my breath is knocked out of me when I see his wide deep, blue eyes. He stares at me and I stare back. If I thought I loved him while he was within me, I was wrong. I feel a connection, almost like an invisible rope that bound us so tightly together we drowned in conversation without parting our lips.

I smile and pinch his chubby cheeks softly. His small pink lips part.

He's charming.

I clutch my son a little tighter and hug him to my bosom, blind to the world and tears streaming down my face.

I may have been young when he was conceived, but this was too beautiful to feel like a mistake.