01-04-2016, 10:35 AM
Wichita
surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
It's easy now, labor. The familiarity of it all had become ingrained in her nature, had eased with each birth. The child within her radiated with feelings and the small woman could not be more impatient to meet the little life. This was going to be different she hoped, this was not going to be a child that reminded her of the sadness of being alone. This would not be a mistake. She hoped, she prayed, and she willed it to be so. If the God's heard her, only time would tell.
It's rhythmic, the thrum of her stomach, the churning of her insides as the contractions take over her barrel. It's easier when you breathe, when you give in and refrain from resistance. Birth was nothing to be fought against, no matter what came, it must run it's course. One way or another. The protests of her body seem faraway, Wichita remains in her 'happy place', focusing on the passing of the pain. Tossing and turning as she sees fit, rising and falling to her knees and back again. It seems like ages, the process, even so each time. Though it has only been a few hours and her work is complete. The reward a birth encased smokey filly, peering precariously up at her.
"Welcome ta the world my lil one." She breathes, hot steamy air falling on the girls face as she cleans away the mess. Her chocolate eyes inspect the foal, making sure all the pieces where there, that everything was as it should be. "Welcome to yer home, the Gates. My lil Kena." She decides a name, having so many stored in her mind, plucking one from the roof of her mouth. Little did she know how very fitting the name would be for this child or the reason why it would be. Time would tell, as it told on things before and after her, how it would continue to do so forever.
"Let's get up now sug." She says gently, nudging at the girls side. A dark velvet muzzle placed against the soft,damp flesh of the babe.
It's rhythmic, the thrum of her stomach, the churning of her insides as the contractions take over her barrel. It's easier when you breathe, when you give in and refrain from resistance. Birth was nothing to be fought against, no matter what came, it must run it's course. One way or another. The protests of her body seem faraway, Wichita remains in her 'happy place', focusing on the passing of the pain. Tossing and turning as she sees fit, rising and falling to her knees and back again. It seems like ages, the process, even so each time. Though it has only been a few hours and her work is complete. The reward a birth encased smokey filly, peering precariously up at her.
"Welcome ta the world my lil one." She breathes, hot steamy air falling on the girls face as she cleans away the mess. Her chocolate eyes inspect the foal, making sure all the pieces where there, that everything was as it should be. "Welcome to yer home, the Gates. My lil Kena." She decides a name, having so many stored in her mind, plucking one from the roof of her mouth. Little did she know how very fitting the name would be for this child or the reason why it would be. Time would tell, as it told on things before and after her, how it would continue to do so forever.
"Let's get up now sug." She says gently, nudging at the girls side. A dark velvet muzzle placed against the soft,damp flesh of the babe.
amen.
Lady and Governor of Heaven's Gates