Maeve

Misty lingers nearby as Ginny, my midwife, rises from between my legs, her face cast in the shadow of the sunset sending golden and crimson streaks of light through the curtains. The snow is melting. Ice thaws on the windows. I relax my legs with a grimace, Misty coming to my side to help me back into a seated position.

“So?” Misty asks as Ginny disposes of her gloves. “Is this happening?”

“Slowly, but yes. She’s quickening now. Her contractions will grow stronger from her, but they’re still far enough apart that I believe we have some time. A day or so.”

“A day?” I whine.

Ginny and Misty...