I. The pain is searing, coursing through my veins, lighting me on fire. Flames spread through my blood, glowing orbs floating in a red ocean. It’s a flood, and it’s painfully horrifying, the cells wage war, and there in the center...something far more terrifying than death itself. A baby drowning in the crimson and as it turns its head...there is no face, just open wounds flowing bright scarlet.
I wake up; sweat drenching my face and dampening the coarse hospital gown. I feel my around my rounded abdomen frantically, my lower half convulsing and throbbing, stretching and tearing, burning. Is this the beginning? Has it started? The agony spreads, and before I know, I’m screaming, gripping the cold bars by the uncomfortable cot. I must have been loud, to wake up John, who has slept through a violent thunderstorm without batting an eye. He stands up abruptly and rushes over.
“Honey? What’s wrong? Did they start?” His pale face wrinkles, blue eyes searching mine. I grunt in response, my face contorting into thousands of deep creases.
“Goddamn, it hurts, John.” I moan, digging my fingernails into his arm, as he desperately tries to comfort me. He shoves a flat pillow underneath my back to give some support and runs for the doctor.
They come in soon enough, the doctor with a panicked countenance and several nurses rushing in behind him.
“It’s not supposed to start this early, you haven’t even finished gestation!” The doctor mutters worriedly. “How far are you?”
“I…I think the water broke.” I manage to say, the contractions doubling in pain and intensity. The nurse checks underneath the forest green gown, and nods towards my gynecologist.
“Check the mucus plug, has it discharged yet?” The nurse checks again, and when she lifts her head, her eyebrows are bunched together and she looks as though something went horribly wrong. The doctor brushes past, examining for himself. Now, he looks the same. He waves the nurse over to me and tells her to clean me up. He takes John with him to the door, and I can barely make out parts of what he is saying. But just from John’s face, I know it’s not good.
“It’s supposed to be pink…if not clear…it’s completely bloody…she might even…” The doctor lowers his voice after seeing my damp face crinkling to hear.
“S***!” John exclaims, supporting his head with a heavy hand, collapsing against the door frame. What did he say? What happened?
“What are we going to do?” He cries, the doctor rubbing his back.
“The dilations are getting very frequent, Dr. Haynes, five seconds apart.” The nurse beckons and he rushes over.
“I think you’re ready, Ana. Do you want to change your mind about the epidural?” As soon he offers I waver, ultimately nodding ‘no’ unsurely. If I had known it would be this bad, I would have said I wanted one long before- but I wanted to prove to John how strong I was, contrary to his beliefs.
“I need you to breathe and keep calm, okay, Ana? “ He stretches my legs out and positions himself accordingly.
“When I say push, push, okay? Push.” I grunt, the heavy weight driving against my pelvis as the pain escalates. I cry out helplessly, tear streaming.
“Push, push, Ana! You need to try harder! Push!” The doctor orders and I curse at him in my mind. You’re a man! How would you know? I push as hard as I can, feeling the warm blood trickling.
“Good, now harder!” I try again, the pain burning between my legs, and my legs give way. The black starts taking over my eyes, and the pain lights up inside.
“Dammit! Stay with us, Ana! Come on, open your damn eyes! Come on, honey!” John chants frantically, rubbing my arms. I just know he is raking his fingers through his deep brown hair, biting his lip in panic. I try to obey, but the black is thick, forceful. I can’t, and my body is splitting and tearing inexorably.
“The placenta, it’s detaching! It’s ripping off the uterine wall, and she’s shutting herself down!” The doctor breathes heavily, calling some more doctors. I cringe unconsciously, hoping the baby will be okay.
“Do something! Make it work! Keep her alive, dammit! Dr. Haynes, I’m begging you!” John shrieks, his hoarse voice full of angst.
“Mr. Ryan, we are trying our best, please calm down so we can have the best environment for the procedure. Nurse Lin? Please escort Mr. Ryan to the waiting room.”
I smell the nurse’s strong floral perfume taking John away, him heaving and struggling to stay. Even these basic thoughts start fading, everything in soft focus, edges blurred and senses dimmed. My back arches unpleasantly in menacing pain. I feel the presence of some more people, more doctors?
“It’ll have to be an emergency Caesarian, and seeing as she’s having some extreme bleeding- Abrupto Placentae?” Another man’s voice speaks brusquely.
“Seems like it is, a lot of bleeding, too. We’ll just have to do the Caesarian. It looks pretty complex, does she have…?” A female’s voice responds.
I was right, more doctors. Is there even supposed to be this many? It can’t be that bad right? It’s just childbirth…there’s nothing…there’s nothing wrong with me, right? I’m just intolerant of pain, that’s all. Just a bit too much blood; I have a heavy period after all. The baby is probably just anxious to get out, right? Right?
Every thought I have, I have an inner argument. My mind tears with the pain from below, one side telling me it’s no big deal, the other reacting wildly as my nerves signal flashing red. I try to reassure myself to defend myself against my body’s own nagging suspicions that there is something terribly wrong. It doesn’t help that everything is fading, I can barely make out my own thoughts. The anesthetic numbs the last of the thoughts, and masks me in an impenetrable blanket of shadow, and I’m gone.
The dream comes again, haunting me.
Red, red, red, why is there so much red? It flows straight, no tributaries, a horrid gushing river of vermillion drowning the single voice of reason that questions whatever the hell that is happening to me. Wha-
It chokes me, the darkness. It flows into my throat, hardening veins and mixing them with black, and the poison seeps slowly, venomously. A fire, burning an eternal flame, eating me one tendril a time, the pain burning everything in its path.
Ah-! Ah-! I scream with no sound, the vocal chords burning into ash as I voice for help, my body thrashing and lashing, blood exploding black, cleansing in the river of monstrous red. Drowning, burning, sinking.
And suddenly, the pain stops. Abrupt and ripping, darkness inundating around.
I am free.

II. The doctors stand bewildered, a thrashing body, cells ridden with bitter seizures. A medical first, but they rinse their hands of the oxidizing blood, giving the newly birthed baby to the nurse. They call the father, an uncomfortable face as they sympathize and walk on.
Black and white surrounds me, and everything is new but old at the same time. The cold wraps around me, the original warmth replaced, burning at the sore skin uncomfortably. I scream out in irritation, wailing for John. He’s the one I went through all the pain for; I wanted to wait it out for a couple of years before becoming a mother. I reach my hands out for my baby, my heart beating far too fast for some reason I couldn’t place my finger on. The nurse walks past, and I frown.
He finally appears at the door frame, eyes bloodshot and brown stubble casting a shadow around his chin. The doctor looks apologetic, and they murmur unintelligible words. John is…he’s a mess. His eyes tear up, and he tenses, tightening his fist. He’s in disbelief, and for the first time in my life, he actually sobs, crumpling to the ground. Something seems wrong, but I convince myself uncertainly.
I laugh tentatively; he must have been really worried. I smile, thinking about how lucky I am, how much this man loves me. Hell, he must have had a complete anxiety attack when I was giving birth! Serves him right for thinking I couldn’t do it without an epidural. He scans the room, and finally meets my gaze. His face hardens and softens in a matter of seconds, and he points to me with a shaking hand, looking doubtfully towards the doctor, who nods curtly in response. His hand covers his mouth in disbelief, and I know immediately that something is dreadfully, horribly, unexplainably wrong.
He treads over, each step as indecisive as the one before it, and he towers over me in the bed. They’ve covered in me in warm blankets after the otherworldly pain I had experienced just a few hours back. The bed I’m resting in has taller sides too, for support, I assume. His eyes widen and he turns back sharply and looks at something that the bed’s sides obstruct me from seeing. Is it the baby? Oh, no…is it something with the baby? God forbid, is it suffering from some abnormality?
No wonder John is so out of place, he wanted this baby so much. And there’s something wrong with her? My heart breaks, but before anything, I just want to hold her in my arms. I reach my hands out again, and John turns around. His cerulean pupils are ringed with rubicund veins, the contrast startling me.
“Is- Is she healthy?” He mumbles roughly, staring at me. I’m right here, dammit. Of course I’m healthy, I’m really sore, but I’m healthy.
“A very healthy little girl, Mr. Ryan.” She starts filling out the paperwork. Healthy little girl? What? Wait, so my baby is actually okay? Thank god, I sigh in relief.
“How much? How much does she weigh?” He slurs, throat heavy with emotion.
“Exactly six pounds and five ounces. Your wife did a great job, would you like to hold her?” Damn right, I did. For nine months, I did yoga, ate extremely healthy, listening to Bach day and ni- What the hell? Why is the nurse-
The nurse picks me up from my bed, and I nestle conveniently into her arms, confused and out of place. I wail at the new circumstance, and she hands me off to John. Wait…no. This isn’t what I think it is…right? No way in hell could I ha-
He turns with me in his hands as he walks across the room, and I stare dumbfounded at the body in my sight…my body. I lay on the bed, veiny eyes closed, and insipid, colorless lips crusted with drying, whitish saliva. My stomach lay open, an operation blanket draped over lazily, blood visible on the stained cot. Bruises line the thin legs that peek out from under the forest green cloth, and taut, translucent skin covers spidery fingers that sit lifelessly upon the metal railings of the bed. I feel like vomiting, my everything threatening to spill out if I opened my mouth. In the corner of the room, I see what I am…rosy cheeked, large doll-like eyes, and swaddled in John’s arms.
I am…my own baby.
“What would you like to name her, Mr. Ryan?” The nurse looks up from her paperwork, holding the pen expectantly. John looks at me, eyes filled with love and despair, a frightening mix.
“A-Ana. Ana Ryan.” He holds me close to his heart, a held-back sob choking him slowly as I whimper against his warmth.
I howl, wet-faced in disbelief, the cries echoing in the stark white hospital room as the atrocious truth finally settles in. I try to think it’s a dream, but as the nurse takes me from John’s hands, I realize that not only have I snatched away my own life…but I am alive in worst way. The love of my life is now my…father? As the nurse scrubs me with stinging isopropyl alcohol, the tears fall uncontrollably as I realize the horror of my own fate.
III. The room is cold and white, and I shudder unconsciously, being in the place I hate most. My throat chokes up, and I hold his hand tightly, never wanting to let go.
I left kindergarten early to get my ‘fizzical’ done. Daddy said it’s very important to get one, so we’re going to meet Dr. Haynes. I really don’t like the hospital at all, it scares me, and it’s too big. Daddy lets me hang off his neck and holds me when I’m there so it’s okay. I’m kind of mad because it’s my birthday, but Daddy said I have to, and I don’t want to give Daddy a hard time.
“Ana? How is my cute, little patient doing today?” Dr. Haynes smiles at me. He’s a very nice doctor. He even lets me take a lollipop at the end of my visits.
“Really, really, really good! In fact, today is my birthday! I turned five years old, so I got a sprinkle-y cupcake and extra pretzels at snack time, too!” I jump excitedly as Dr. Haynes laughs.
“Ana is being a big girl! Right, Mr. Ryan?” Daddy looks up and smiles. Daddy looks sad for some reason, so I go hug him. He envelopes me and I wrap myself around him happily. I love Daddy so much, I never want him to be sad.
Daddy puts me on top of fire-engine shaped cot, and I sit as Dr. Haynes checks if I can flex properly and checks my heart beat. He sees how tall I am, and writes down how much I weigh. He even gives me a shot, and I don’t even cry.
“Very good, Ana! You are very brave!” He takes a sticker off a rack hanging on the white hospital walls, and sticks it onto my shirt. I am very proud, and show Daddy, who is looking at his phone.
“Is she healthy?” Daddy looks at Dr. Haynes expectantly. Silly Daddy, of course I’m healthy! I’m right here! I smile at his silliness.
“A very healthy little girl you got there, a good one, at that. Quite a Daddy’s girl, too.” He gives Daddy a small smile.
“You’re a good sport, hun.” Daddy smiles and ruffles my brown hair as I show him my bandage, and hands me my sweater.
I reach for the sleeves and put it on, and Daddy goes to talk with Dr. Haynes. I put it on quickly so I can hear what they are talking about.
“Does she know? About…her?” Dr. Haynes says quietly, looking at Daddy sadly. What happened?
“I told her that she went back to heaven.” Daddy fidgets with his car keys, and Dr. Haynes rubs his back.
Oh, they’re talking about Mommy. I wish I knew Mommy before she left, but Daddy said that one day, after I got really old, I could meet her. He said she’s very, very, very pretty, just like me. I can’t wait to meet her, but until then, I’ll be with Daddy forever and ever.
I take Daddy’s hand and we walk to the car together, so we can go get chocolate ice cream for my birthday.
“I love you, Daddy” I look up at him happily, and swing his finger back in forth as I hold it tightly.
“I love you, too, Ana. I love you, too.”