Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This

When Rick awoke each morning, he had no way of knowing which direction that particular day would go. No one knew. Before the end of the world, you might have a good idea of what was ahead, but now, all you could do was make a plan, then hope for the best. So that's what they did. It was all they could do.

For a long time it seemed there were very few walkers in town but over the past month, more and more were streaming into Waycross – migrating in enormous crowds. Sometimes there were breaks in the herds but at other times they would swarm the streets endlessly for days at a time.

It did no good to try to do anything when it came to combating the herds. They were no match against the army of walkers and the survivors abandoned any strategies of trying to take them out. They couldn't even step outside. Their only option was to disengage, stay quiet and stay inside.

The library stood strong and proved to be an effective fortress against the mobs but the endless parade of walkers kept everyone trapped inside. Only the rooftop allowed them the luxury of being outdoors. Their food provisions would hold them over for at least another month but they still rationed to be safe.

Water was another story. They had to go out to the back of the library's small loading dock to refill their buckets from the cisterns. The cisterns were behind iron fences but still in an area where the walkers could see and hear them when they exited to retrieve water.

On top of the danger of getting water, there was the ominous fact that they were beginning to run low on the crucial necessity. There were less than 15 gallons of water left. They would be forced to somehow figure out a way to leave the building to bring back water.

A macabre uneasiness washed over the library and its inhabitants. It was frightening and disturbing knowing that walls were the only thing separating you from certain death, but even more terrifying was the thought of being imprisoned in your own home and slowly dying from dehydration.

Despite the circumstances and the anxiety they all felt, Rick was determined to remain hopeful and reassure everyone that they would figure something out. When vague promises weren't enough, he sat down with the group to strategize. After a long discussion, they outlined a definitive plan for getting water.

The plan was simple enough: Carol, Eugene and Rosita would throw Molotov cocktails from the roof to an area far away from the pick-up truck. Once the herd was distracted away from the truck, Morgan, Abraham, Lee and Noah would get behind the wheel with six 50 gallon drums and drive to the mile and a half to the farmhouse where they got the water. Fortunately for them, the drums were already in the bed of the truck.

"We can only fill them a little more than halfway full," Lee said. "If they're full they'll weigh around 400 pounds each. If we're surrounded by walkers, we won't be able to carry them if they weigh that much."

"Good call. We also don't want to weigh the truck down," Abraham added.

"So once you're close, tell us on the walkies and we'll throw more cocktails down from the roof. We'll try to get them away from the gate at the loading dock where you'll park the truck," Rick said.

"Yeah but once the walkers see the truck and everyone in it, they'll come right back," Glenn replied.

Rick rubbed his beard, thinking."Well, if that happens, just leave the water and get back in here quickly. At least the water will be close by. We'll figure out another way to get it inside later."

"Well let's get this show on the road! Daylight's wastin'!" Abraham said standing up.

"One more thing," Rick said, "I want y'all to take guns."

"There's less than a hundred rounds left," Lee said.

"Yeah I know that. But this is the kind of day we've been saving them for. I know you'll only use them if you get into a tight spot," Rick replied.

Abraham nodded, "It'll be better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them."

Within an hour, everyone was in place. The Molotov cocktails were thrown from the roof. Dozens of the dead moved away from the truck and towards the fire. Morgan, Abraham, Lee and Noah ran to the truck and jumped inside. Rick watched through the small window in the door as they drove away.

Carol's voice came through the walkie to Rick seconds later, "They made it away from the herd. They're headed down Maplewood towards the farm."

"Good," Rick sighed. Half the battle was over.

…..

Michonne was lying in bed, napping with Judith when she was suddenly awoken by the sharp pain. She sat straight up and held on to her stomach. Her entire abdomen became rock hard. Her labor was beginning.

Other than Judy, Michonne was by herself. She would have to walk down the attic steps to call for Rick. She waited for the first contraction to stop then stepped out of bed. As she stood, she felt wetness on her legs. Her water had broken in her sleep. She walked down the flight of stairs and opened the door at the bottom.

"Rick!" she yelled. "I need you!"

Rick charged up the stairs to her side. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"It's time."

"Right now? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. The contractions woke me up and they're strong. My water broke too."

"Okay, let me get you back upstairs into bed." Rick helped her up the stairs and had her lie back down.

"I'm gonna go get Bob and the others. Will you be alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'll be fine."

Judith rolled over, wide awake. "I'll take her down to Liv," Rick said pulling Judith out from underneath the covers. As they began to walk away Michonne cried loudly. Rick spun around with Judith in his arms. "Michonne, are you okay?"

Michonne screamed out in pain.

"Mama!" Judith wailed, terrified of seeing her mother cry.

Michonne took large heaving breaths. "I'm okay pumpkin. Don't cry. The baby is coming today Judy!" Michonne smiled through the pain.

"Baby," Judith said, calming down.

"Yeah sweetie, the baby is coming," Rick said kissing her cheek.

"Mama! Want you!" Judith cried again as she looked over at Michonne.

"Rick, bring her to me," Michonne asked.

Rick returned to Michonne's bedside and the toddler held her arms out towards her. "Mama, want you!"

Michonne reached for Judith and held her chubby cheeks in her hands. Michonne kissed her several times. "Daddy's gonna take you to Liv or Auntie Sasha and Mama has to stay here. Be a big girl and I'll see you in a little bit. I love you Pumpkin!"

Rick walked towards the staircase as Judith began wailing again. "Daddy, want Mama! Stay wif Mama!"

Five minutes later, Rick was back upstairs with Bob, Carol and Carl.

"Alright," Bob said in an excited but steady tone, "looks like today's the day." He laid his instruments and supplies out on the dresser. "How you feeling? How far apart are your contractions?"

"I've only had three but they're about 4 minutes apart," Michonne answered. "Where's Morgan?"

Morgan had been shadowing Bob when it came to all things medical. Over the last few weeks, whenever Bob came to check on Michonne, Morgan was by his side, studious as ever. He perfected taking her blood pressure and doing all the rest of her vitals.

"He's out on a water run," Rick said wiping the sweat from Michonne's forehead and neck.

"They went out?" Michonne exclaimed. "How? I thought there were walkers everywhere!""

"We didn't have a choice. We hardly have any water," Rick said trying to calm her down.

"Well who else went? Did they make it out okay?"

"Morgan went with Abraham, Noah and Lee. They made it out fine but that's all I know. Michonne, listen, you can't worry about that. You have one job right now: to bring our baby into the world. And that's what you're gonna do."

Michonne nodded her head, "Okay." Another contraction hit her hard. She clenched Rick's hand and breathed heavily through the pain. As soon as the contraction ended, Bob came up to her.

"I need to check your cervix, okay?" Michonne nodded. Carol pulled her pants and underwear off and draped a sheet over her knees.

Michonne looked over at Carl and smiled. "Don't look kid. If you see something, I guarantee you'll be more embarrassed than me."

"Do you want me to leave?" Carl asked.

"Of course not. Unless you changed your mind and don't want to stay."

"I want to be here for you," he said walking closer to the head of the bed. "I'll stay on this side of the bed though," he chuckled.

"Good," Michonne said giving his hand a squeeze.

More time passed. More contractions came. The four waited and watched as Michonne and the baby inside her did the job of starting a new life.

Bob checked Michonne again. "Well you're dilated to nine already and almost a hundred percent effaced. It shouldn't be too long." Bob took her blood pressure. "Pressure's good too. I'm glad the meds we had worked to stop your labor. It bought you four more weeks and the baby is that much stronger."

Rick smiled at all the good news. He still held fast to her hand as he kissed her softly on the lips. "I think it actually just hit me...we're gonna have a baby in our arms today."

Michonne smiled back at him, "I'm ready. I'm happy." Another contraction took over her entire body. Michonne roared out in pain.

"Breathe baby! Squeeze my hand and breathe!" Rick said doing his best to encourage her. She held onto him tightly. She inhaled deeply through her nose and blew out hard through her mouth. "You're doing perfect." The contraction finally subsided and Michonne relaxed again.

"Good. Try and rest between the contractions. We'll be there soon," Bob said.

Carol prepared water and towels on a changing table. Rick gave Michonne a few sips of water. Two minutes after the last one, another contraction hit.

"They're getting closer," Bob said. "After this contraction, I'll check you again."

"It hurts, Rick," Michonne said as she was hyperventilating. "It...hurts."

"I know...I wish I could take the pain away," Rick said wiping her forehead again with a cloth. "But you're doing so good. Just breathe." The contraction ended and Michonne closed her eyes.

Bob reached under the sheet and checked her cervix again, "I thought you would be ready to push and I was right. You're dilated to ten and a hundred percent effaced. We're ready to deliver!"

…..

Eugene held the walkie to his face as he looked through binoculars. "This is Eugene Porter requesting an ETA from Sergeant Abraham Ford. Do you copy?"

"We just finished filling the sixth drum and we're closing it up now. We should be back in five to seven minutes barring any bumps in the road. Where's Rick? Thought he was in command."

"Rick Grimes is presently at his wife's bedside as she delivers Rick or Michonne Junior."

"Good gracious...there's lot's of excitement today! You have those Molotov cocktails ready to throw before we get back?"

"Yes sir, we do. There are five on standby. Rosita Espinoza will throw them at your request."

Glenn and Sasha waited patiently by the loading dock ready to assist while Eugene and Rosita kept watch from the roof.

"I see them," Eugene said in the walkie to Glenn and Sasha.

Moments later, Abraham's voice came through, "We'll be there in less than a minute. Throw them!"

Rosita lit the first Molotov cocktail and threw it as far away as she could but where the walkers near the loading dock could see it. A small explosion erupted on the ground. Several of the dead took notice and followed the flames. She threw another. More walkers followed. She threw another then another. Almost all the walkers were drawn to the area of the explosions and left the loading dock. Rosita went to throw the last cocktail when the sweat in her hand caused the Molotov to slip out of her grasp. It fell to the ground and made a loud crash on the concrete just below.

"Damn it!" Rosita yelled at herself under her breath. "I can't believe I did that." The walkers that had been drawn away started to return towards the noise the breaking glass just made.

Rosita snatched the walkie from Eugene. "I screwed up. You guys are going to have walkers on your ass as soon as you park. Just get inside and leave the water!"

The truck sped along as it backed up towards the loading dock gate. Lee slammed on the brakes, cut the engine, and hopped out. Abraham came from the passenger side. They both climbed into the bed of the truck where Morgan and Noah had been riding. Abraham, Lee and Noah climbed over the gate as the mob of walkers approached. The walkers reached for them as they hopped over. Abraham and Lee fell to the other side. Lee pulled Noah by the shoulders. He was nearly over when his right leg was snatched out beneath him. He fell to the ground and the dead advanced.

"Help me!" Noah screamed.

Morgan, almost over the gate himself, jumped back down into the back of the truck. He slammed his bow staff into the heads of three walkers nearing Noah. More were right behind and Morgan smacked his staff against them again too, knocking them off their feet.

Lee and Abraham fired their guns into the skulls of the approaching herd making their way towards Noah.

"Noah, give me your hand and get up!" Morgan commanded.

Noah extended his hand up as Morgan leaned over the bed of the truck to grab it. As Noah's arm reached up, a walker grabbed it and sunk it's rotting teeth into it. Noah screamed out in pain as two more walkers fell on top of him. They ripped into his flesh and blood poured and splattered everywhere.

Morgan never carried a gun but that day he had. He pulled it from his pocket and fired it into the young boy's skull. Noah's agonizing screams stopped suddenly and Morgan jumped over the fence to safety.

…..

"I heard gunshots," Michonne spoke as she panted in exhaustion.

"Michonne, it's time to push. Try not to worry about what's going on down there," Bob said sternly.

"I'm not worried!" she barked. "I just want to know what's happening!"

"I'll go down and find out what's going on," Carl reassured her. Carl looked at his father and Rick nodded.

"Thank you, Carl," Michonne replied. She could hear Carl's footsteps as he bounded down the stairs.

"Alright Michonne, I want you to try and sit up as much as you can," Bob instructed her. We're all about to get really comfortable with each other. Rick, I want you to hold her right leg back and Carol, you hold her left leg back. As each contraction comes, you're gonna push as hard as you can. When the contraction stops, stop pushing and rest. Got it?"

"Got it!" Michonne answered. When the next contraction came, Michonne pushed with all her strength.

"Good. That's perfect," Bob said. A minute and a half later, another contraction came and Michonne bared down, pushing again.

As it ended, they all heard footsteps from the staircase and Carl and Morgan came around to where everyone was gathered around the bed.

"Now that you're here, you can take her pressure," Bob spoke to Morgan. Morgan threw his jacket onto the floor and went to wash his hands with a wet towel and rubbing alcohol. He approached Michonne with the blood pressure cuff and began to do the job he had been practicing.

"Her pressure is a little low. 97 over 70," he told Bob.

"What does that mean?" Rick asked.

"It just means that this baby needs to hurry and get out here. It's alright though. Hypotension, or low blood pressure, isn't that uncommon during delivery."

"Another one is coming," Michonne gasped as she spoke.

"Okay," Bob said, "I want you to push as hard as you possibly can. One...two...three, push!"

Michonne bared down, squeezed her eyes shut and pushed.

"I see the head, baby!" Rick said with exhilaration. In a moment of calm, Rick looked over at Morgan, "We heard the gunshots – what happened out there?"

Morgan turned away from the group, looking away. "Noah," he finally said, "Noah...he's gone."

Devastation filled the room. Looks of despair were exchanged between everyone in the room.

"Hey," Bob spoke up, "we need to get back to the matter at hand. We can't afford to grieve right now. Michonne and the baby need us at a hundred percent."

For the next thirty minutes, Michonne alternated between pushing for two minutes and resting for one minute. Rick stared down into her face. Sheer exhaustion had taken it's toll on her body and she was barely awake between contractions.

Morgan took her blood pressure again per Bob's request. "It's dropped again. It's 87 over 67."

"Okay. The baby hasn't budged in thirty minutes. I think she has some really broad shoulders and is stuck. And if Michonne's pressure is low, chances are the baby is in some distress. We need to deliver now. I really don't want to have to do a c-section but if her pressure drops anymore, I may have to."

"No! You can't do a C-section!" Rick yelled back at Bob in a panic. "You can't! That's how Judith lost her mother and I'm not going to lose Michonne like that!"

Bob stood silent looking down at the floor. "Okay. There's one other thing I can try but I only saw it done once on a maternity rotation a dozen years ago."

"That's not very reassuring," Carol spoke up.

"What? What do you want to do?" Rick asked as sweat dripped from his temples.

"We push on her abdomen. We push really hard. We have to be careful though because if we push too hard, it could rupture the placenta and she could start bleeding badly."

Carol looked at Rick and Rick looked at Michonne, as he caressed her face. "Michonne, Baby, what do you want to do?"

Michonne didn't answer.

"Michonne!" Rick yelled. "Michonne...Baby wake up! Tell me what to do!"

"Rick, she's contracting. You and Morgan hold her legs back," Bob said. "Carol, come around here and get ready to catch the baby. I'm going to push on her stomach." Bob strategically placed his hands on the lower part of her abdomen and pushed as hard as he could. "Michonne, can you hear me? I need you to push with me. Push!" Bob yelled.

Michonne lied their, still and unresponsive.

"Michonne I need you to wake up and push!" Bob yelled at her. "C'mon girl, push!"

Michonne didn't make a move. Rick shook her arms. "Michonne!" Rick cried out. "Oh God! Please...please, don't take her from me! I'm beggin' you! If you're there, listen to me! Don't take her from me! I'm beggin' you, please, God! Please!"

"The head's out!" Carol yelled.

"I'm going to just keep pushing. Be ready to catch her!" Bob said.

Rick still cried, as he held onto his wife. He stared at her closed eyes, willing them to open. He continued to pray silently, desperate for an answer. Rick was in a haze and wasn't brought out until he heard the cries of a newborn. His baby.

"It's a girl!" Carol laughed and shouted at the same time. The baby wailed loudly. "She's got good color and a good scream!"

"What about Michonne?" Rick asked Bob, searching the doctor's face for an answer.

Bob checked her blood pressure again. "It's 101 over 77. It's comin' back up. She's just exhausted and her pressure being so low made her pass out. Try and wake her up while I look at the baby and cut the cord. Then we need to deliver the placenta. Hard part's probably over."

"Michonne, you there?" Rick pleaded with her as he gently shook her shoulders. "Morgan, hand me that glass of water." Rick put water to her lips and poured a small amount into her mouth. He poured the water onto her chest and neck and shook her shoulders again. Michonne's eyes finally fluttered open as she took in deep breaths.

"Oh God, thank you! You're okay baby! Are you here with me?" Rick cried.

"I'm here," she whispered, still drowsy. "What happened? Is the baby okay?"

"I thought I was going to lose you..." Rick buried his face into her side, overcome by his emotions.

"The baby's fine. She's perfect," Bob confirmed. "She's a great size and that's why she was having so much trouble makin' her way out."

Rick pulled himself together. "Give her to me." Carol and Bob had finished cleaning her and wrapping her up. Carol carefully placed the newborn into Rick's arms. Rick carried his daughter to Michonne and held her close to her mother. He laid the baby and himself down on the bed.

Michonne looked at their daughter with tears in her eyes. "We did it. She's beautiful and we did it."

"You did it." Rick kissed his baby girl, kissed his wife, then closed his eyes and breathed. "Thank you God."

…..

A/N: This might sound weird but I feel such a close connection with you readers. Weird or not, I do. Because of that, I want to share a part of my life with you...an incredible part of my life.

You may have noticed that the last three chapters of my fic have had names pertaining to motherhood: Chapter 36 was called "Mother's Day, chapter 37 was called "The Matriarch" and this chapter is called "Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This".

I named these chapters that because in my opinion, motherhood is one of the highest callings possible. It has been for me, anyway. Being a mother to my three children is the most important thing in the world to me, second only to my faith in the Lord Jesus. The reason for this is because of my mother.

My precious momma was born blind way back in 1938. Despite her blindness, she wanted nothing more than to be a mother. So she got married and had nine, yes nine kids! In our neighborhood and in our circles, she became the crazy blind lady who had way too many kids. I was the youngest out of those nine kids.

When I was two years old, my dad left her. He left my blind mother to raise their nine children on her own, in a run-down house in a bad neighborhood. I swear I'm not making this up.

Well guess what! My mom did it. She wasn't perfect but she raised us the very best she could. She dragged our butts to church every Sunday and always made sure we had food on the table. She did such a good job loving us. She let me know every day that she loved me. She NEVER ONCE complained. She never let on that she was worried about where our food would come from or how she would get us to a doctor's appointments or anything. She had a radiant faith in God and that was all she needed.

She's 78 and she still goes to three nursing homes to play the piano for the seniors there. She still plays the piano at church every Sunday. She still loves me like crazy. She has read her entire Bible (in Braille) around a dozen times and she still puts her faith in God at the forefront of everything she does.

As I've written Michonne, my mom has been in the back of my mind. In a very peculiar but very real way, Michonne reminds me of my momma. Yes the fierce, black, dread-locked, ninja, Michonne reminds me of my 78 year old, blind, Hispanic, piano-playing mother. Why? Because of the love, strength and faith they both have.

I know I've written Michonne a little differently than she is in the show but it's truly the only way I could have done it. I'm glad you let some of the OOC traits I wrote her with, slide and stuck with my version.

There's only one chapter left after this latest one and I am having some sadness about leaving this story. Because of that, I've had some serious writer's block when it came to these last two chapters. But I love this story way too much and had to push my way through it.

I want to thank you all for going along with me on this. Thank you for reading and telling me what you think – both good and bad. Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for reading my long rant about how amazing my mom is. Thanks for listening to my "preaching" at you here and there. I probably need a therapist or at least a good journal in my life but you all have filled the slot very well. Thank you. Love to all and God bless always!