"It wasn't quite what she had bargained for. She really had no idea that it could be this hard. It had all started with the best of intentions, but somehow, began to fall apart about half way through the night.
She had mapped out her perfect "birth plan." Her coach would be by her side, soft music playing in the back round. She'd rub her back, and tell her how brave and beautiful she was. And she would feel beautiful--like an earth mother, doing what had been done millions of times before, by billions of women before her. This was what her body was meant to do. She was wired for this. She would push her child into the world without an epidural. No episiotomy, drugs or forceps. No IV. It wasn't natural and what god had intended.
She would hold her baby right away and then kiss it good-bye. At sixteen, she wasn't ready to be a mother, even though her body was. Everything was perfect. She had found just the right adoptive couple, who were unable to have children of their own. They had waited too long and at forty-two the woman was not able to conceive. They had met several times, and drawn up the contract. It would be an "open adoption", the couple would send her pictures and she would have visiting rights.
At midnight the contractions became stronger, and by 3 am, she could barely catch her breath. They were coming one on top of the other. Instead of feeling like a natural thing, it felt like her body was betraying her. Some force had begun to take over and she was no longer in charge. She no longer wanted to walk around, instead glued to her bed, sweat and tears pouring down her face. She begged for drugs. She lost count with how many times she said, "fuck."
At 4:10 am, her doctor announced that her baby was in "distress", and by 4:30, a flurry of doctors, nurses, technicians, were wheeling her into an operating room. At 5:07 am her baby was born by C/section, blue and floppy. She only remembers the pulling and tugging as they set him free from her womb. And the nurse and doctor in the corner of the room, resuscitating her son, and carrying him off to the nursery. No proper good-byes.