#Chapter 88: Contractions

My breaths came in shallow, measured waves, my hand resting gently on the mound of my swollen belly. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of crisp white sheets. I felt it, a subtle ripple of sensation, the unmistakable sign that the moment I'd been waiting for was drawing near. I couldn't believe it was finally happening and that my dream had turned into a nightmare. I was having contractions. They were still playing a gentle rhythm, a distant promise that soon my world would transform. I'd prepared for this, read all the books, attended the classes, yet no amount of knowledge could completely dispel the mixture of relief and fear that now surged within me. Relief, because I might just escape the cold emptiness of the cellar, might bear my child through the natural course of events. I wanted to feel the connection, the raw miracle of life, not be numbed and cut open by some unknown surgeon's hand. But fear danced at the edges of my consciousness. It was a shadow I couldn'