Lydia

A Story by Micah

The story of the birth of a girl.

This story begins in a home, like all stories do. It was a home, after all, that she was born in. In a home that her mother was renting, in the master bedroom bathroom. There was no father present, just three girls born before her. When her mother gave birth to her, she could swear she felt God and the sunlight.
    It was in August that she was due. The water was running warm. Piles upon piles of hot towels were being readied by her three older sisters. They were boiling the hot towels in a stew pot they used ofter otherwise. They folded them into quarters and stacked them on the toilet seat next to the bath tub. Their mother wrapped her long slender fingers around the rim of the porcelain bath tub. Her hair had once been braided but came undone in the movement. She didn't scream, she moaned and writhed and bit her lip but there was no screaming. The bath water had gone thick and red with blood. One of the older sisters cried, but the other two were far two occupied to be distracted by their mother's birth pains. Although it was when Cybil was on the brink of crying, because of frustration, that something miraculous happened.
    "The baby came out!" called Alicia, who had once been the youngest sister. "Get it, it's going to drown!"
    "No, Alicia," said her mother through her teeth. "It won't drown. where is the turkey baster, Jasmine?"
    Jasmine, who was once the middle sister, fumbled through the mess on the bathroom floor.
    "The turkey baster!" yelled her mother. "In the kitchen, the turkey baster, get the turkey baster!"
    Jasmine ran out of the master bedroom, leaving bloody red footprints on the carpet from the overflowing bloody bath water. She had a good running start on the carpet but when she reached the tiled kitchen floor, that is when things got difficult. She slipped, and slid, leaving streaks of red on the off-white tiled floor.
    Jasmine returned to the bathroom in the master bedroom with the turkey baster. Cybil snatched it from her hand, squeezed it, and stuck it down the baby's throat. Jasmine noticed, now, that the umbilical cord had been cut in her absence.
    There was a long silence, save for the crying of the new born baby girl.
    "What is her name?" asked Jasmine.
    There was a pause. Her mother pursed her lips together, then said, "Lydia."