I Won a Writing Contest!
Guess what everyone! I won Figment's #Halloween15 contest! Give my work a heart here: http://figment.com/books/955919-Labor-of-Love
Here's my winning piece:
“Turn on the light, sweetie,” Clara said, as calmly as possible. Another contraction wracked her body with pain and she winced, groaning as quietly as she could.
“Right… light…” Kyle flicked on the light and saw the pain on her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes… fine…” she said through gritted teeth. “Hospital…”
“Oh, right, to the hospital then... “ He grabbed their “go-bag” and threw it in the car, and then went back to help his wife. He tried to drive without panicking, but it was hard with his woman writhing in pain in the passenger seat!
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she kept insisting, and finally they arrived at the hospital. Within no time, they were in the delivery room and she was being told to push.
Her husband was right there beside her with ice chips, holding her hand as she pushed and passed out and woke up and pushed again. He dabbed the sweat from her eyes and took her insults with a smile, looking into her worried eyes with braveness and reminding her that it was almost over, and that he loved her “more than the sun loves the sky.”
But labor became really complicated, really fast. All of the sudden the doctor and nurses were yelling to each other and at her. They were telling her to push, and not to push, and there were a million hands in a million places. “It will be okay,” they said, “Don’t worry, you’re okay.” The last memory she had before she awoke to the cries of her newborn baby was the look of her husband’s face, determination scribbled across it to mask the fear that shone so prevalently in those amber eyes of his and colored his skin three shades lighter. “You can do this, Clare. We can do this.” Upon waking she saw her husband’s face, tears filling his eyes.
She looked up at the doctor, “How’s the baby?” She asked.
He sighed, “She… didn’t make it.”
“What do you mean she didn’t make it? I can hear her crying right now…” She looked at her husband, who was sobbing with her hand in his hand.
“Would you like to hold the baby?” The doctor asked.
“Of course!” She responded. The doctor stepped away for a moment, and came back carrying a beautiful bundle of joy in a pink blanket. She reached her hands out to hold her child, but instead he handed the little girl to Kyle.
“She’s beautiful…” he said, and he looked at Clara, “I wish you could see her, Clare.”
“I can see, Kyle. She’s perfect.” she said, reaching out for their daughter, who was starting to fuss again. Kyle looked at her with sadness. He didn’t hand her their daughter. He began to sob again and the nurse took the crying baby from his arms.
“Come on,” the doctor said, “Let’s get you out of here…” He put his hand on Kyle’s shoulder and led him out of the room.
Kyle stopped at the door and looked back with tears streaming down his face, “Will I get a moment alone with Clara?”
“Yes, after we clean her up a bit,” the doctor responded. “I know this is a hard time for you, but there are some people who can help you through this. I called them up to meet you here, just have a seat in that chair down the hall.”
Clara began to worry, “Nurse? Where is my daughter? Where’s Kyle going?” The nurse rolled up the cords from one of the machines and walked away.
The doctor picked up her chart. “Do we have a time of death?” He asked another nurse.
“Uh… three fifty-five,” she replied. “Cause of death TBD.”
“What do you mean? My baby’s fine! I’m fine!--” She was cut off by the doctor.
“Thanks. Get her cleaned up so the husband can say his goodbyes. It’s so sad when things like this happen… That poor girl will never have her mother.”
