01 | delivery

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FEBRUARY 29, 1996 / DENHVOY ALVOROD, MATERNITY HOSPITAL N. 1

"Ekaterina Delrov?" a nurse dressed in a polka-dotted lilac shirt scanned the waiting room.

Immediately, she knew the only one who could be Ekaterina Delrov was the woman sitting like a queen, arms folded neatly - and heavily pregnant. It was minutes past midnight, minutes to the end of her shift, and the nurse had fatigue pulling at her eyelids like a grabby toddler. Still, she tried accommodating a smile as the soon-to-be new mother looked to her.

Her husband, Vasily - said the patient details on her clipboard - helped her to her feet. They had been waiting for less than five minutes, but that was largely due to the utter emptiness of the maternity ward.

"Yes," she pressed her hands on her lower back, forcing her belly to jut outwards - oh, that felt much better.

As she went to bed that night, Ekaterina never expected to be woken up by a rush of fluid between her legs. She had been sleeping with pillows nestling her legs, back and neck, with her husband dozing beside her, when it happened - a couple weeks before her due date. A growing worry shone as cold sweat on her forehead. Even if she was close to a full gestation period, premature births were unpredictable.

Vasily had thought she wet the bed and asked, "Really, Kat?" - which had got him a red welt on the side of his head.

Though this was her first child, Ekaterina had taken enough birth advice from her mother, her grandmother, her sisters, cousins, aunts - practically every female member in her family - to know what to do.

Even her thirteen-year-old niece had chipped in, "Just breathe, and imagine yourself pooing."

"Aria," Ekaterina Delrov had scrunched her eyes at her teenage niece, "How would you even know that?"

"Because," Aria piped, "it's what all the midwives say when they have to deliver babies," referring to the hospital drama she was currently binge-watching.

This was before her grandmother had told her about how she defecated whilst giving birth, and thought that it was the child arriving. Ekaterina hadn't known prior to that conversation, though thoroughly educated in the material side of science, how often bowel movements occurred during childbirth.

And with her legs spread over the rail of the hospital gurney, she really wished she didn't have those two pieces of advice from her niece and grandmother floating around her head.

Ten centimetres, nine hours, three familial visits, one drink of ice chips, many contractions, and at least a hundred screams later, Ekaterina concluded that childbirth did feel a lot like passing an excruciatingly painful, excruciatingly large dump.

Only, no-one ever took her faeces, wiped it down, wrapped it up and gave it back to her.

"Congratulations," the midwife said, looking with affection towards the wriggling lump, "He's stunning."

Ekaterina thought that the line must be very over-rehearsed, given how many women gave birth here. Nevertheless, the gleam in the midwife's eyes was as genuine as hers.

Ekaterina Delrov had never been a physically strong woman - mentally, she was tough as nails. But she hesitated to take her baby into her arms, still weak from the effort of childbirth. Her skin felt old, too rough, her arms too shaky, for a child so innocent.

Learning to trust herself as a mother would be one of Ekaterina's greatest challenges. Her fingers twitched as she reached to take her son, but as his soft body molded into her torso, a smile set fire to all her immediate worries.

He was light as a feather, and cuddled into her chest like he already knew how much love his mother would give him. He was such an adorable baby, though he hadn't even opened his eyes yet. His tawny brown hair and pink face was sticky with amniotic fluid, but Ekaterina only ever awed at how miniature he was.

Soft murmurs and gurgles escaped his tiny lips as she settled down, every breath pushing Ekaterina into bliss. Vasily leant over her, peering down at their child with watery eyes.

"He's so small," he commented, sentimentally. He was right.

So small, like a breath of wind would break every bone in his body.

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