Faith

34 hours of labour. Pure torture. My body adjusting to be able to bring my precious, beautiful child into the world. I would go through hell for her.

I did.

It was 10 o'clock in the morning on Thursday 12th October when i went to the hospital. "No pain relief," i told the midwife. She would suffer for me so i must return the favour. I was shown to my dull, grey room and told the midwife about my perfectly normal pregnancy and how i was in the hospital two weeks earlier than her due date. My husband carried my bags along the corridor with doors attempting to hide the screams of women pushing. We reached our room and got settled in for a long stay.

It was the usual, the odd check-up from the midwife, lunch at 12.30, tea at 6. Regular contractions. Fine.

The following day, the same. Not much happened. Not until 7.30pm the following day. My contractions got faster and faster. I panicked. The midwife wasn't around and i didn't want her to be. My husband had gone to pick my mum up - she lives about 45 mins from the hospital. I was alone. I pushed, i needed to. I had to. I stayed silent to share this moment with just her, my baby.  There she was. The head, at least. One more push and that was it.

She was so pale. So beautiful.
Her glazed, green eyes stared blankly into mine.
The unbillical chord was wrapped around her neck; she was stone cold.


So beautiful. My precious baby girl.


I cried as i held her. I held her so close to me, my heart beat felt like it was hers.
She was so cold.



Sleep tight my angel.