Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

By the sixth hour, Eden cursed me out, for letting her come up with the idea of a natural birth in the first place. Those wet curls stuck to the side of her face as she screamed at me.

Taking off her gown, she yelled for an epidural, or any other medication.

I held her and unclothed myself too. Skin to skin somehow it made her feel better. Her cursing quieted through the pain, but never ended.

There we sat in the birthing pool. Within the moonlight and pain. My love trembled against me and I hoped to absorb some of it for her—to help her in some way.

Dr. Martin arrived later. Eden was done with the midwives, although I told them to stay. Unfortunately, he explained it was too late for her to get an epidural.

The baby was too close.

Eden cried a little and then pushed on. The midwives told me that it was normal for her to regret a water birth during the process, and she cursed them out too. But once the true moment began. . .once her body had done expanding, tearing, and stretching to make room, everyone got to work.

Dear God. She’s so strong and beautiful.

Eden shrieked, and whispered apologies to the midwives as they helped. Both held a knowing look. I’d bet they’d been cursed out by birthing mothers many times before.

The whole night, I hated the torture, Eden was going through, but I kept my mouth closed and did what the midwives told me. I soothed her. I worked with helping her keep the rhythm of her breathing. I held her up in position, when Marcella’s head crowned at the opening of Eden’s vagina.

Jesus Christ. I guess there is a God.

When the final moments came, I held her legs open and to the side. So exhausted, she couldn’t even keep them up anymore. I whispered to her, to push. I told her that it would be okay. That it was almost done. That our baby was coming, and she was going to be just as beautiful as her. I told her when Eden finished, I’d get her anything, buy her anything, kill anyone.

The statements had made the midwives uncomfortable.

I didn’t care.

It was the truth.

In the birthing pool, the sun had just risen, and Marcella popped out of Eden, fluttering through the water and swimming a little into my hands. Blood and gunk covered her soft skin. The umbilical cord was still attached to Eden and her.

Everyone cheered, or maybe it was just me screaming in glee.

Marcella cried, and I believed more in God, than ever before. I gathered more faith. More hope in the magic of the universe. There was something out there. It had to be. Although I hadn’t decided what, there was something moving beyond the realities that I couldn’t see.

Because only something, so powerful, could make a beauty like, Marcella.

Wet black curls framed Marcella’s pudgy face. Her head was a little misshapen, skin blotchy, and her eyelids swollen, from her face and head being mushed and pushed through the birthing canal.

It appeared Marcella had had a rough night too.

My two soldiers.

The midwives told me to wait to cut the umbilical cord, as Eden passed out against my chest, smiling one second and snoring in the next.

Beautiful.

In the birthing pool, bloody water swirled around us and I held Eden and Marcella in my arms. And the sun rose above us.

I smiled.

All those times Eden, and I had watched the sunrise, never did I think one day, it would rise with her and a newborn child in my arms. Beams bathed us.

The midwives and staff scurried around the pool, quietly cleaning up and bringing out towels and robes.

“Welcome, princess.” I gazed down at Marcella. “You don’t know this yet, but one day you’re going to rule the world.”

Epilogue

Milk and Cookie

Jean-Pierre

Six months later.

We sat out on the balcony within the moonlight.

Marcella and me.

It was our nightly tradition since she’d begun teething. Those sharp, little teeth had been piercing and slicing through her innocent gums. If I could, I would’ve tortured them. But the teeth were a part of Marcella, and the natural process of life.

I was slowly learning that sometimes I wouldn’t be able to protect Marcella from everything.

Being a father is not as easy as I thought. You’re not even a big girl yet, and I’m losing control of your day.

She’d already been crawling and getting into everything. Her mommy’s diamond necklaces were her favorite toys. She giggled when they sparkled in the sunlight.

Eden bought her other toys, but still, Marcella only would play with the jewelry. And so, I had to be the reasonable parent and buy my princess her own diamonds.

Every princess needs a crown.

Tonight, I dangled a long two caret necklace in front of her. The diamond spun and twisted. Marcella tried to grab it. Laughing, I would pull it away and she’d shriek in glee.