The Storm - Part 3

Carrie bore down, her face contorting as she screamed. I watched sweat bead off her forehead and drip down her temples.

"Almost there!" I looked, seeing the small dome of the baby's skull. "I see the head!"

Carrie fell back against the headboard, gasping, sobbing. I felt her legs stiffen again under my hands. Her neck strained forward as she let loose a cry that drowned the sound of the pounding rain, her fingers tearing at the sheet covering the bed.

I saw the back of a tiny head.

"Oh my God!" I gasped, moving my hands to support the baby as Carrie pulled herself up and gave one last push, sending a new life slipping into my hands.

Working quickly, I swiped the baby's mouth with my finger and set it on Carrie's chest, covering both of them with piles of warm blankets. Soft mewling cries filled the room.

"Hello, beautiful," Carrie whispered. She stared into the newly blinking eyes while I tied off and cut the umbilical cord. I couldn't take my eyes off the tiny wrinkled face, so shocked and irritated with being thrust into the world.

Carrie looked up at me, tears streaming down her face. Reaching out with one had she touched my own wet cheek with her palm. "Thank you, Ellie."

Emotions swamped me. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. "How do you feel?"

"A little cold. A little shaky," she whispered staring down at the shock of matted hair on the baby's head, gently stroking the soft skin, exploring tiny fingers and hands. I piled a heavy quilt over mother and child, starting to remove the soiled towels.

"Wait. There's still the placenta."

"The placenta?" I echoed weakly.

"You need to save it so the doctor can be sure that everything is okay."

"Save it?" I whispered. My stomach churned at the thought. I looked around the room.

Soiled towels covered the floor surrounding us. The shirt Carrie had been wearing hung off a chair in the corner, discarded when even the feel of soft cotton became too much for her to bear. Three empty pots lolled drunkenly across the floor. A fourth pot of tepid water sat on the floor at the foot of the bed.

I moved to look under the quilt. "Did you know that I actually flunked eighth grade biology?" I said conversationally as I cleaned Carrie's legs, tossing the worst of the towels to the floor, replacing them with clean cloths.

"Hmm?" Carrie was locked in love, her eyes devouring the now quiet baby in her arms.

"Couldn't dissect a frog," I muttered, knowing she wasn't listening. "I nearly passed out at the thought. The boys all--" I suddenly had a thought. "Carrie?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't look. I don't know why but...boy or girl?"

An arrested look crossed Carrie's face. "I--I didn't look either."

We looked at each other, laughter bubbling up and out, rolling around the room. We unwrapped the baby like the most precious of gifts.

"Congratulations, it's a girl." I grinned. The baby cried, her irritation renewed as cool air brushed across her delicate skin.

I continued to clean Carrie, wiping her legs with a wet washcloth. When she finally delivered the placenta, I fought back nausea and put it in a pot, covering it with a lid, washing my hands as shudders wracked my body.

I looked at mother and child resting on the bed, the baby already nursing. The familiar pang of longing stabbed through my womb. I put my hand to my stomach and fought down a tide of jealousy. This was most likely as close as I would ever come to bringing a child into the world. Swallowing new tears, I forced a smile to my face.

"Are you hungry? I've heard that new mothers are always hungry."

"I'm starving."

"What would you like?"

"Thai food. There's a great place in Vegas."

"I'm not sure they deliver out here. Second choice?"

"Donuts. Big, fat donuts with gobs of pink icing."

"God. That sounds good. Know of a good donut shop nearby?"

Carrie laughed. "At this point I'm so hungry, I'll eat whatever you bring."

"You got it." I walked out of the bedroom, into the kitchen. Through the window, I could see the rising sun breaking through the clouds turning them as pink as the donut icing Carrie craved.

I heard heavy footprints cross the porch. The door opened.

The storm was over.

This was a piece of fiction inspired by a Red Dress Club prompt. Which was a big picture of a delicious-looking donut. The rest of this story can be found up top under Fictional Mandyland. I wish you all could read the twitter feed that gave me all the information I never wanted to know about placentas and home births. At one point, I was laughing so hard that I almost fell out of my chair. Interestingly enough, the men on twitter disappeard.

As always, concrit is welcomed.