Inside, her room is dimly lit.
Here since midnight, she's on hands and knees; rocking.
The pain rips through her body and she throws her head back. A primal cry escapes her, and I want to cry, too. It's just about more than this mama can take, but I heed my own advice and just breathe though it.
Little One's daddy and I share a knowing glance. We understand each other, helpless to alleviate the agony and almost crushed because of it.
Outside, the sun quietly, gloriously, rises.
The sky lights up, painted purple and peach. The filtered rays find their way to shimmering trees and I'm peacefully reminded of what is soon to come...
...the wonder of Baby's first breath.
(At 7:30 AM, an epidural has her mercifully resting.)
And at 11:05 AM...
See what I mean! She draws her first breath, and takes mine away...
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