By Lacey Owen
She walks slowly toward labour and delivery cradling her tight swollen belly. A loving gesture she doesn’t even realise she’s making and soon it’ll be gone.
Lit up harshly against the still of the night sky, sterile corridors have never seemed so inviting, conjuring emotions of relief, excitement and terror.
A path journeyed by so many women before her and even though she’s surrounded by support, she’s somehow never felt more alone.
As waves of contractions momentarily take her away from this earth, she pauses quickly to catch her breath, steady her nerves, calm her mind.
Realisation washes over her that life as she knows it will never be the same. Arriving now as two and leaving as three. Her newly formed family unit.
Entering a woman, seemingly perfect in every way. Only to be shaken up, rearranged, and put back together completely transformed.
Journeying back down those same corridors, with her belly now empty. The weight of her world snuggled safely in her arms. Departing as a mother.
If these halls could speak, oh the tales they could tell. Walls containing the echoes of guttural cries we didn’t know existed within us. Primal noises only heard during the most sacred of life’s events. Witnessing emotion so vulnerable and raw it’s almost indescribable.
