Chapter 1: Born

The pain throughout my body continued as I sat on my knees on the couch. My hands clasped tightly and my face buried in my bent arms propped on the back of the couch, I breathed deeply, looking down at the soft blanket beneath my spread legs. Contraction after contraction rippled through my body like a hungry animal and, instinctively, I began to rock my hips slightly in time with the waves of pain that never ended. Even nearly blinded by pain, I could feel familiar eyes on me, could feel their concern.

"You're staring at me," I stated, never moving from my position. In response, I felt the fluttering of warm fingertips against my neck. Hands curved themselves over my arms, rubbing against my skin in a soothing manner.

"I wish I could help, my love. Seeing you in this amount of pain is unbearable," Zakali replied, his deep voice comforting to hear. I didn't reply at first, easing through another contraction before speaking.

"There's not much you can do; this is nature's process," I told him, my voice falling silent as another particularly painful wave came to me and my hand moved to my very pregnant belly unconsciously as I breathed through it. I exhaled heavily and met his eyes. He held a washcloth in his hand and wiped my sweaty forehead, cooling me down and making me feel less disgusting. I smiled appreciatively as he touched his lips to mine momentarily.

"I just wish you would go to a hospital," he admitted. I smiled again, sympathetically and indulgently this time.

"You know we can't risk anything. Besides," I added, "women have been giving birth naturally for thousands of years," my smile was humorous now, "I should know." Zakali smiled softly, shaking his head at my remark then sighed.

"I at least wish you would allow my mother to assist you," he insisted but I shook my head. I had already explained this to him; this needed to be solitary, just us present. I refused to respond, concentrating on riding out the contractions. Three or four contractions later, I felt a change and the alteration of my posture, along with the slight moan that came from my mouth, alerted Zakali. Immediately, he was hovering over me.

"What can I do?" he asked, his cobalt eyes anxious. I didn't answer for a moment before inhaling sharply as the first overwhelming urge to push over whelmed me. My breathing came faster and deeper and I felt my fingers grip my mate's tightly. Unlike most women, I had seen thousands upon thousands of births and, thus, I did not shy away from the urge. Instead, I followed it, pushing instinctively throughout the contraction. Though it was a minor contraction in comparison to what was to come, I was slightly out of breath as the contraction faded.

"Get me on the bed. Now," I ordered, my voice quick and quiet. I felt his strong arms lift me securely and gently place me on the king size bed not far from the couch, avoiding touching me below the hips less he interfere. I moved onto my hands and knees, rocking my hips as I felt another contraction build up. Tucking my chin to my chest, I pushed, my body responding to its age old instincts. Exhaling and breathing deeply as the contraction faded, I look up to see Zakali watching me with a mixture of fear and awe.

"What?" I asked, near panting. I shook his head, his eyes still holding the odd emotions.

"You look glorious, darling," he explained. I scoffed in response as he reached forward to push my blonde hair out of my face, blotting my face with the damp washcloth. Two more contractions rippled through me. I could feel the baby progressing and, as I felt the head press against me to get out, I knew I had to change positions.

"Help me lay down. She's coming too fast," I murmured, my eyes closed as I focused on my internal physiology as much as possible. Zakali maneuvered himself underneath me, laying me down on the sheets. It was difficult to move with him since the baby's head was pushing at my vaginal opening but he helped me restate myself while keeping my legs spread and my hips open. I propped myself up on my elbow, one leg laying flat on the towels over the comforter while the other was pulled back as much as my flexibility would allow. I felt a hand on my thigh and felt grateful as Zakali held my leg back for me, his other arm curling under my back. Shaking my hair out of my face, I pushed again as my daughter fought her way out of my body. Though I was solely focused on safely delivering the baby, I did not miss the smile on Zakali's face as he watched beside me.

As the baby's head began to emerge, I moved my elbow from underneath me, leaning into Zakali's arm. From so many times delivering other women's children, my hand unconsciously curved around the baby's head as she continued to crown. My breathing was panting now but I didn't care. My fingers gently lay over my daughter's head, stroking her delicately as she came into the world. I pushed again and could not help the hushed cry of pain that left my lips as the head surfaced. I exhaled deeply for a few moments, allowing the head to turn spontaneously. Zakali's eyes were on my face, which I knew was covered in sweat.

"It's okay," I assured him, "I'm okay." He nodded, not actually believing me, but knowing not to intervene. As another set of contractions came on, I knew this was it. Putting in as much strength as I could in my fatigued state, I pushed as they came head on, and exhaled in a pained gasp as the baby's shoulders and then the rest of her body slipped out of me. My hands automatically caught her and I transferred her to my chest, cradling her in my arms. She began to cry, naturally, and a clean fleece towel was draped over her by her father. I lay against his arm, the umbilical cord still attached. I gently opened up her airways and nasal cavities, stroking her skin delicately, carefully. Though I had done this thousands of times, whether with or without modern medicine capabilities, it did not have the same effect on me as other births I have been present for. Clearing her mouth and nose calmed her and she lay against my bare chest, wrapped in the soft towel. I ran three fingers down her back soothingly and her eyes, before squeezed shut, opened.

Deep blue orbs looked back at me. Strikingly similar to Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night, her eyes were deep royal blue with flecks of gold in their cores. The blue reminded me so much of my own and Zakali's and, in looking down at my newborn daughter, I saw how much resemblance the she already had to both of us. She cried out suddenly and, instinctively, I moved her in range of my right nipple, sighing as she latched on hungrily. I looked up at Zakali then, our eyes locking in unexplainable emotion.

"She's perfect," he said simply and I nodded, salty tears sliding down my cheeks as I held my daughter to me closely.

"Ila," I murmured to her softly, repeating it over and over like a mantra. And, though she did not make any noticeable acknowledgement toward her name, I felt as if she understood it. My voice seemed to calm her more and I spoke to her softly in the ancient language which I had learned as a child, many years ago. As it was my first language, so it would be hers. I nuzzled her gently, cuddling her, my nose sliding against her skin softly. Zakali spoke then,

"Bela," he whispered, his finger tracing along her cheek as he repeated the long lost nickname of our village. I couldn't help the smile that came over my face as I held my daughter, after waiting too many lifetimes for her to arrive.

Hey everyone!

This is the beginning of a new story partially based on my story Analissa. It will have a strong basis from Analissa and a sprinkle from my other stories.

Please enjoy!

Reviews are always appreciated!

~Melinda :)