Waiting for snow

14:00 pm

The sky was brilliantly blue. Almost blindingly so. Mary scowled at the offensive hue.

"You'd better snow soon,” she grumbled at the sky. It was only polite to issue a warning. "What was that, dear?" her mother-in-law asked her, head poking in between the potted plants adorning the kitchen island.

"Nothing! All good!" she replied, rearranging her lips and jaw and teeth into an approximation of a smile. Her mother-in-law was sweet and kind and there to assist, but she was also very jumpy and every word or sound or even a sigh that came from Mary had her worrying that the baby was arriving right this instant.

Mary couldn't so much as groan at her hips —now seemingly too far from one another

for them to work properly— without her mother-in-law approaching with concern that was so far needless.

There are a few things that a heavily pregnant woman, already three days overdue, isn’t particularly fond of being reminded of.

One, that she used to be able to pick up anything she dropped to the ground. Now? Now she had to pray whatever she dropped wasn’t valuable or useful because it was lost to her forever. Two, that she used to enjoy a deep slumber without the urge to pee every hour or someone kicking her on the ribs from the inside. Three, that salami pizza now made her feel like a dragon breathed down her oesophagus. Heck, at this point she had to avoid even water as it seemed to cause heartburn too, which made all the nocturnal urination even more aggravating. And lastly but more painfully, four, that baby hadn’t arrived yet.

Her mother-in-law hovered close as Mary had to embark on her sixth trip to the bathroom since waking up three hours ago. Just as she was resuming her slow trip back to the couch, the door opened and her husband returned home with their three year old daughter and their jaunt at the park.

“Mommy,” the little rubber ball of energy that was their daughter, Emma, exclaimed and pounced on her. Mary was saved from having to somehow use one child as a platform to balance the other by Daniel swooping in.

“Hey, what did we talk about? No jumping on mommy’s belly!” he chided gently.

The little girl pouted. “You said it would snow, where is the snow, Mommy?”

That was number five for Mary. She had promised snow to her eldest daughter and she (or rather the blindingly, offensively blue sky) hadn't delivered on that promise. Yet.

04:00 am

Mary was currently fixating on all items in her mental list, and why not, she added another one in the mix, six, worrying how it could ever be possible to love a second child as much as the first without the first one feeling completely betrayed.

Her entire left side burned as she lay on the bed, and she decided to change positions. Here we go again, she thought as she propped herself on the elbow and then used her hands to sit up, before carefully lowering herself on the other side.

Number seven. Number seven was being able to roll from side to side freely, without the need to sit up.

Her husband snored softly, face relaxed as a loose drape in sleep whereas her own felt like a wrinkled bedsheet.

Drat. Now she had to pee again. Sighing, she repeated the sitting up process and slowly got up from the bed, wincing at the very noticeable sounds her hips made.

"You better be the cutest baby ever," she squeezed her belly gently and got a lazy kick in reply, as if the baby wouldn't muster a regular one for such a ridiculous statement.

She managed one, two, three steps and then her water broke. The expression was so fitting, she thought for a second, before realisation hit. A dam burst and a hot gash ran down her legs, soaking her entirely.

"Daniel." she said. "Daniel, wake up."

"Ungaff…Hrrumph," he grumbled incoherently.

"Daniel! Wake up!"

"What? What is it?" he replied, propping himself on his elbow, hair jutting out and voice heavy with the cloak of sleep.

"My water broke.”

A small pause as he closed his eyes for one, two heartbeats before looking at her as he sat up on the bed.

"Are you sure?"

She lifted a foot a few centimeters off the carpet and stepped it down again, eliciting a soft quelch. She pressed her lips tightly, trying to forget that her bedroom carpet was now soaked in what essentially was baby urine.

"Quite sure, yes."

"Okay, let's get you to the hospital."

06:00 am

Mary had already endured an enema and two vaginal examinations that made her ponder —not for the first time— just how undignified childbirth was.

Daniel walked back into the room where she was sitting on the bed, face tightening at every contraction. They were now getting closer and closer.

"The anesthesiologist is coming," he promised. "He was on a break and he should be here soon."

"Good," she said and squeezed his hand with more force than she realized. Not that would ever compare with what she and her genitals would endure soon.

She bent forwards and focused on her deep breathing.

Even with it being her second time around, it still felt surreal that she had a person nestled in her and he would be out and about soon.

The pain however was very real, and a reminder of number eight of things that no pregnant woman likes to hear, her anatomy accommodating the circumference of an infant’s head.

"I called my mom, Emma is still asleep, everything is fine." Daniel told her in a weak attempt at distracting her. Only an epidural could do that now.

Where was the anesthesiologist?

"Everything is definitely not fine. I promised her it would snow and it hasn't snowed yet.” she said through gritted teeth. She was getting more and more unfamiliar with regular breathing. How had she done it so effortlessly her entire life?

"You are a resourceful woman, but I don't know if controlling the weather is on your repertoire," Daniel replied, rubbing her lower back.

She turned her head to face him, slowly, and her eyes turned to slits.

"I promised her that Santa would bring her our new baby, and she said —very cleverly I may add—that Santa needs snow, so I don't want her to be disappointed."

"You could have promised her a Barbie."

"What??"

"Nothing, just joking. It's December in Vienna, I'm sure the snow will come soon."

She eyed him suspiciously and then braced herself for the next contraction, a wave swelling from a gentle ripple to a tsunami in under ten seconds. Each time the pain took her by surprise.

A young midwife approached the door slowly, hands scrunching up the fabric of her scrubs. “I just wanted to inform you that the anesthesiologist cannot come but your gynecologist will be here soon.”

Mary’s head snapped to attention in what must have been preternatural speed for someone in her condition.

"What do you mean, the doctor cannot come?"

The midwife, a wispy blond little thing, looked down, wringing her hands.

"He has some gastrointestinal distress and he cannot administer the epidural safely."

"Oh, he was a tummy boo-boo?" Mary asked, hair frazzled around her face and sticking up to her forehead as she let out a wail at the next contraction.

"He had diarrhea, quite a bad case of it. So you see, he cannot possibly…—

"If you're trying to make me pity a man for what he is expelling from his body, let me remind you that I am about to expel a three-days overdue baby…Aaaaaaaah—

"Sweetie, this isn't helping you," Daniel said and covered her hands with his.

"Neither is the anesthesiologist," Mary howled.

Daniel turned to the midwife. "Is someone else coming to replace him?" he asked.

"We called another doctor, yes, but I think the baby might arrive before him."

Mary got up and the midwife took a few steps backwards gingerly. She kept her head down as Mary trudged to the pilates ball and plopped herself down, legs wide apart and hands clutching at her hips.

"This baby won't go anywhere if I don't get my epidural first!"

The midwife mumbled something and left, letting May breathe —or rather, hyperventilate—in between contractions.

"It hasn't snowed yet," she panted, with tears in her eyes. She had promised snow and her little girl, soon-to-be-not the littlest anymore, wanted Santa to bring the baby. How could she let her down like that?

She used to be able to soothe every fear, to every pain, to hug every nightmare away. What if she couldn't anymore? She hadn't forgotten how demanding newborns are; wrinkly despots that rule over everyone with a tiny, iron fist and a poopy diaper.

How could she be all that she used to be? Number nine. What if a mother's love doesn't multiply? What if it stagnates and leaves two kids in need of therapy after a childhood of inadequate love and divided attention? No, wait. That had been number six. See, the baby wasn’t even here yet and Mary couldn’t keep track of her own thoughts. How could she manage kids?

Daniel kneeled in front of her, using his hands to block her from moving and the ball from rolling away.

"Hey. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

"It won't be, I know it won't," tears were now flowing, something that seemed a biological impossibility as Mary was a desert, parched but unable to drink water without vomiting violently and promptly.

"Sweetie, she knows how you love her, that won't change."

"Me loving her or her knowing?"

"Either. Both."

"And what if I can't love either one of them enough?"

Daniel chuckled. "Now that’s the hormones talking. You will love all of us as well as you do now."

Mary didn't manage to reply as they were interrupted by the next contraction and the midwife getting back with Mary's gynecologist.

Mary ground out, "No, wrong doctor," and pointed at the door.

Her doctor of many years laughed. Laughed! As if her body wasn't about to shatter in two, her heart in smithereens.

"It will be fine, you have done this before."

"Everyone keeps saying that but I am not sure it works like that." Mary replied, holding on to Daniel for support.

The doctor motioned for the midwife to help Mary onto the bed to subject her to another examination.

He nodded to himself and said,"I think it's going to be time to start pushing very soon.”

"No, thank you."

"No, thank you?" the doctor laughed incredulously.

"I will wait for the other anesthesiologist to come."

"Oh, I think we are past that. The head is crowning. Wanna see?"

"No! But he can," Mary nodded to Daniel. “I don’t believe him,” she told Daniel and pointed at the doctor. Her good manners had whooshed out of her body along with the amniotic fluids.

“I don't want to either." he said, terrified. The man fainted at the thought of blood.

"You know that all of this, it's your fault, right?"

Daniel quickly moved next to the doctor and nodded.

And then kept nodding.

"What is it?" Mary grunted after a particularly strong contraction.

Whatever Daniel was looking at, had him enthralled.

“I… I wasn't expecting that.” Daniel managed.

“You weren't expecting what?” Mary demanded, suddenly worried. There wasn't exactly a plethora of things that Daniel could be looking at

"It's a head, I think. With black hair," he appeared disgusted and in awe, in equal parts. “It's a real human, and we have made one for the second time,” his voice sounded almost reverent.

“It's time to push," the doctor repeated, nudging Daniel towards less traumatizing parts of her.

May looked up to him, and whispered as he squeezed her hand.

"I am scared. I really can't do it," she told him.

"I know. But you will," he placed a kiss on her sweaty brow.

"How can you be so calm?" she demanded.

“I am calm because it’s you. You can do anything! Okay?”

"Okay," she said faintly.

"And do you know something else?”

"What?"

"It's snowing."

Mary turned to the window, the view mostly obstructed by orange curtains that allowed a soft morning light to seep in. She saw fat snowflakes swirl in the early breeze, and then her body suddenly knew what it needed to do, right as the doctor yelled "Push!"

13:00 pm

"He is so beautiful, and look at his eyes, so blue."

"This might change up to the twelfth month, you know.” the olderly said as she wheeled in Mary's hard-earned lunch.

Number one of things a new mother doesn't want to hear is how her newborn’s blues might be fleeting.

"Who cares if his eyes aren't blue? He will still be beautiful."

Daniel said with the little squirming bundle on his arms as Mary started lifting the lids of the trays.

"Morning, mommy!" Emma’s voice filled the room before the little girl did.

"Baby!" Mary exclaimed and tried to sit up straight, ignoring the park that seared through her abdomen and the tears that flooded her vision.

Her mother-in-law following Emma was able to seize her before she launched herself on her mother's wrecked body.

"Who brought the baby?" the little girl asked with wide eyes, looking at her baby brother and trying to poke his head disregarding dad's efforts at gently swatting her finger away.

Mary pushed the wheelie cart away, patting the mattress next to her for the little girl to climb. "Do you remember when you asked me if Santa could bring the baby?" she asked her.

The little girl nodded affirmatively in the exaggerated way only young children can, their whole body somehow nodding in assent.

"Well, it snowed so Santa was able to take his sleigh and bring the baby to us.” Mary explained.

The little girl's big brown eyes, identical shade as her braids narrowed as she considered this.

"So, Santa gave you the baby, like you said?”

"Yes.”

"But wasn't your belly big because of the baby?"

Mary opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Why hadn't she considered that? She eyed Daniel who was cooing at his son and coughed loudly and pointedly to make him look at her.

"Some help here?" her eyebrows seem to convey.

"Oh no no, you came up with that, you are on your own" the shake of his head and pursed lips replied.

Maru sighed. "It's Christmas magic, sweetie. I had the baby in my belly and then

Santa came to help me prepare him for his big sister!"

Emma nodded, seeming placated. “Okay, can I hold him now?” she asked.

Mary’s vision turned watery as she watched her husband and daughter cuddle the baby, Grandma snapping pictures and wiping tears.

How silly her fears now seemed, illuminated by the bright December day.

Her heart seemed to have expanded, another medical impossibility, for her chest must have vacated all those worries making her notice space that she never knew she had before. Space rapidly deluged by love stretching and taking up every crevice, covering every pore.

Daniel smiled at her knowingly, raising a brow as if reading her thoughts. Number… Oh well, she had lost count but there was a spot in the list of things a new mom doesn't want to hear and that spot was about how she didn’t want to know she was wrong on things she said or worried about before giving birth.

She smiled back and looked at the window, nibbling at a slice of bread.

The crisp, winter

day so present and loud, as loud as the meowls of her newborn. The sunlight reflected by the snow. The snow —a wispy layer of it— wouldn't last the day, but it had been enough. The sky was brilliantly blue. Almost blindingly so.