[Angela]
After that accident, Patrick rarely left my side. He sent and fetched me from work. As the baby grew and moving became more tiring, I didn't object. Time passed quickly and soon the baby was due. I was scared. Really scared. This was my first child.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what were the signs that it was starting. I didn't know what would happen after that. I was told it was painful. I didn't know if I could stand it. For the first time in my life, I doubted my strength. Coming from a carnival, nobody did that. We were brought up to be strong, we grew into tough men and women.
And I knew I was tough.
But I don't know if I'm tough enough.
A week before my baby was due, I took maternity leave from work. I stayed at home, killing time knitting little clothes for our daughter. It was a tradition from the Carnival. I would occasionally rub my hand across my round belly, wondering how was she doing. Slowly I noticed the gap between my breasts and my swollen abdomen was getting bigger. My doctor told me it was a sign the baby was coming.
That Thursday I knew it was coming. I woke up feeling refreshed and energetic. Patrick left for work as usual and I sat on the sofa, working on the clothes for our baby. Two hours passed and I was getting up to make lunch when it happened.
The pain was similar to what I felt when the road incident happened. The first wave hit and I doubled over, clutching my abdomen. It didn't hurt that much but I was scared. I sat on the carpeted floor, breathing in and out as waves of contractions arrived.
Then it hit me. She was coming.