Bound through Time

Eleonor

Sitting in the bathtub with a soaked nightgown sticking to my body, revealing my swollen breasts and huge belly, I wonder if I will be able to withstand the excruciating pain without untethering, without giving up on this body.

Whenever the pain builds up again, I get on my knees, while Marta presses a wrapped hot stone on my lower back.

Even though Kate tells me to breathe over and over again, all I manage is to clench my teeth and groan uncontrollably.

I wonder if it's already appropriate to cry, or if it's still way too early for that.

Screaming my lungs out helps somehow. It takes the edge off.

If only it weren't the edge of the Titanic's iceberg.

I'm not sure if it gets worse as time passes or if I've just grown too tired to bear it.

Anyhow, the pain builds with every new contraction, reaching an all-time high.

Whenever I regain my senses, it creeps back in only moments later, without any time to properly rest.

Isn't there some threshold?

If this is only 50%, I will not be able to endure 100%.

What is the highest amount of pain one can endure?

Will I be able to stay when it gets even worse?

I have a horrific premonition that I will untether the moment I drift into unconsciousness.

After a couple more contractions, I'm already crying and screaming, almost breaking Kate's hand.

When Enid checks on me in the afternoon, as the sun is setting, I fear the worst, but to my surprise, she says I'm fully open and can start pushing soon.

I can't believe it.

I'm close to the end.

The first half took till noon, but the second half only a couple of hours at best.

Well, it does feel like the pain is growing exponentially.

For a few seconds, I'm euphoric and even manage an exhausted smile.

Only to be put in my place by the next contraction.

The following are more bearable now that I know I'm close.

I somehow found my composure with the end in sight.

But they come closer and closer apart.

Leaving me no more than what feels like a few seconds in between, only to take a few jagged breaths.

As exhaustion and pain cloud my senses completely, I lose all reason and can barely make out what the others are saying.

Something along the lines of "Stop pushing."

I cry and scream uncontrollably.

"Oh Gott, ich kann nicht mehr! Bitte, aufhören!"

When I regain my senses after the last contraction, I sense a shift in the atmosphere.

It's dead quiet.

Nervously, I ask, "What's wrong?! Is the baby alright?"

After what feels like an endless silence, Enid answers.

"The baby is fine. But they are stuck, though. Don't push until I tell you to."

"What do you mean, stu—"

The next contraction crashes in, obliterating my senses yet again.

In addition, now I also worry about my baby more than before.

At first, I was skeptical about how such a fragile, tiny being could withstand being pushed through a narrow canal, pressed relentlessly against the walls.

But now it appears that the canal is too narrow to serve its function altogether.

By now, I hope I will fall unconscious very soon.

Maybe my body will manage on its own.

This indescribable pain, only a product of your own mind, yet it is tearing you to shreds like a cleaver.

Finally, they give me something to drink, and I end up in a weirdly drunken and sleepy state.

I can feel the next contraction, but it doesn't bother me anymore, like this is not my own pain anymore, but someone else's.

And I'm merely a spectator, unable to decipher the sensational input.

I close my eyes and can only make out muffled voices.

I'm finally drifting away.

Goodbye, my love.

Sorry, I was too weak to meet you.

If only I had a second chance.