INTENSE

                                    

                                          
Continued
April 4th; 2041
Joy Swift's Point of View
I let out a guttural groan, gripping the railing of the hospital bed like my life depends on it as I push. The pain surges through me, hot and sharp, and I can feel every muscle in my body screaming in protest. It's as if my insides are being twisted, pulled, and crushed all at once. Whoever said childbirth is beautiful was a liar. This baby is trying to kill me. That's the only logical explanation for this level of agony. It doesn't feel humanly possible to survive this. How do women across the globe endure this?
"You're doing great. I'm so proud of you," Anthony says softly, his hand gripping mine.
I turn my head toward him, glaring through my tear-blurred vision. "Oh, screw you and your words of encouragement," I snap, my voice strained as another contraction hits like a tidal wave. "You're not the one who feels like they're being ripped in half!"
Anthony flinches slightly but doesn't let go of my hand. "Fair point," he murmurs, looking helpless but determined to stay by my side.
Mom walks over, her face calm and full of warmth, and places her hand gently on my shoulder. "You can do this, Joy. Okay? Just keep breathing."
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face as another contraction steals what little strength I have left. My voice cracks when I speak. "I'm so sorry," I sob, looking up at her.
Mom frowns, her expression shifting to concern. "For what? Honey, you didn't do anything wrong."
I grip her hand tightly, desperate for her to understand. "I'm so sorry for putting you through this. You're telling me you did this three times?! You pushed five babies out of you?! I can't—I can't believe I did this to you. I'm so sorry you went through this pain because of me."
Mom's face softens, and she leans in closer, brushing the hair away from my sweaty forehead. "Oh, sweetheart," she says gently. "Don't apologize. You are a gift. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
"But it hurts so much!" I cry, clutching her hand like a lifeline. "I'm dying, Mom. I swear I'm dying."
"You're not dying, Joy," she says firmly, her tone a perfect mix of comfort and authority. "It feels impossible, I know. But you can do this. You're doing it right now, and I couldn't be more proud of you."
I grip the side of the bed, my entire body trembling as the next contraction barrels through me like a freight train. Every nerve ending feels like it's on fire, and I'm sure I've reached my breaking point. I can't take it anymore. I just can't. This baby needs to come out.
"I need this baby out," I scream, my voice cracking. "I need this baby out of my uterus and in my arms now!"
Anthony, still holding my hand like it's his job, tries to respond with a mix of logic and calm. "Technically, he's not in your uterus anymore. He's in your birth canal now."
I whip my head toward him, fire in my eyes. "I'm going to kill you!" I roar, my grip tightening on his hand so much that he winces.
"I deserved that," Anthony mutters, visibly terrified but unwilling to let go. "You're doing great, though!"
"Shut up, Anthony!" I yell, my words echoing through the room as another contraction hits like a lightning strike. My head falls back against the pillow, and I swear I can feel my soul leaving my body.
Mom, standing on the other side of the bed, rubs my shoulder reassuringly. "You're so close, Joy. Just a few more pushes, and he'll be here. You've got this, sweetheart."
"No, I don't!" I cry, my voice breaking. "I don't have it! Someone else take over. Mom, you do it!"
Mom chuckles softly, though I know she's serious when she says, "I wish I could, honey. But you're the only one who can do this."