Logs:Birth Day
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| RL Date: 12 July, 2010 |
| Who: Delifa, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Birth Day |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 3, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions |
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| The restlessless was relentess, like one of those light headaches that lingers for days, more annoying than actually painful, constantly hovering around the edges of her consciousness. Madilla found she could no longer even bare to sit still at the infirmary, now: it was just too uncomfortable, too boring, too-- everything. And too nothing, too. Word around the caverns was that it was snowing heavily again outside, but the lure of fresh air was too great. Surely a brief sojourn would be fine! A walk would do her good, surely: get the blood pumping, distract her from the endless waiting if only for a little while. It seemed to take forever just to get to the bowl entrance, and longer still to button her enormous coat over the immensity of her body. Outside, snow bit at her cheeks and at her eyes. All thoughts of an actual walk faded from her mind in the face of this: it would be too easy, she realised, to get lost out there, or to get tired, or to simply fall and hurt herself. So she lingered around the entrance, her back against the icy cold stone of the bowl wall, her eyes closed against the onslaught. It was enough, though. It was... exhilarating. She felt more alive than she had in days, in weeks, even, or even longer. See, she thought to her child, curled up inside her so determined to stay snug and safe. It's exciting out here. Maybe not quite so warm and cozy, but I won't let you freeze. I'll keep you warm. She felt a little silly, thinking to the baby like that... but she kept doing it. I want to meet you. So does your dady. There's so much to see out here, I promise. When she went inside again, she felt peaceful; calm; patient. Ready.
Actually, she felt almost too calm, now, breezing through the rest of the meal without a word to anyone; afterwards, she cleared her dishes and headed back to her room, pausing once along the way to ride through another wave of pain. Logically, she supposed she ought to call someone, have someone spend the evening with her just in case, but it seemed like an intrusion, somehow. She'd give it a few hours. She could go to the infirmary after that. The evening wore on in a quiet kind of way, puncuated by contractions growing slowly but steadily longer, more painful, closer together. She timed them, as best she could, keeping track as this first stage wore on. Even now, the baby seemed to be in no particular hurry, and Madilla no longer felt the need to urge him or her on. All in good time. Her calm surprised even herself: oughtn't she be worried, about now? Excited? Overwhelmed? Instead, it was like floating through a dream, for the most part, interrupted only on occasion, but in tolerable, measured bursts. She practiced deep breathing. She worked on her quilt. She took a stroll around the room. Later, she slept-- in fits and starts, off and on, but certainly, more than she'd expected to. In the early hours of the the morning, she woke with an enormous start, suddenly sure that it was time to head for the infirmary. The contraction that followed made her all the more sure: it was longer, harder, exquisitely painful in a way the previous ones had only hinted at. It took forever to walk even the short distance to the infirmary, and now, her heart was pumping faster and faster. It got worse before it got better, much worse, though Madilla remembered only hazy snatches of it later. She knew Delifa was there, holding her, encouraging her, helping her to breath. She knew that she asked them to find B'tal. The rest, though, was lost to pain, some of it so awful she couldn't see how she was going to be able to keep going. But she did keep going. All through the morning, until, just before lunch, Delifa's voice near her ear encouraged her to push, and more words began floating back towards her: a head! They could see a dark head. And a body, and-- she could feel it, exquisite and strange, as a final push sent a wailing, unhappy body out into the world. "It's a girl, Madilla. A beautiful, perfect little girl," someone told her, and it was all she could do to try and reach and reach until they placed the baby, blanket-wrapped and still wailing, into her arms. A girl. |
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