By Coco Jane
3:22 a.m. I am snug and warm. Pressed tight, in fact.
Oh, my! A bright light, and cold, and strange sounds!
Something is touching me. Cold, and hard, and—alien. I flail and writhe.
I cry out in agony. So very loud!
More lights, noises, textures. What is happening to me?
I’m tipped and whirling. So many sensations! Life as I knew it is gone. What IS this existence?
Okay, somewhat snug again. A little warmer. But that light! I squinch my eyes tight.
“Mom, Dad, we had a boy! Asher Jackson. Eight pounds, eleven ounces. Born at 3:22 this morning.”
Nice one
Birth is traumatic. I like how you described the transition from trauma to security wrapped up in mom or dad’s arms.
Thanks. I chose Asher Jackson because that’s the name of a recent arrival in a friend’s family.
Super story! My son’s name…Asher?
Not sure why I put a question mark!