• Eve screamed once again as another contraction drained even more of her fading strength.
    Among the swirl of people in scrubs and masks, among the murmur of instructions and phrases, among the beeping of hospital monitors, a voice whispered in Eve’s ear, one that gave her strength.
    “C’mon Eve, honey, you’re doing great. Just hang in there.”
    As the contraction passed, Eve panted, sweat cascading like so many tiny waterfalls down over her face, and every inch of her body; Eve was drenched in her own sweat as though she had just been swimming in a pool of it. This and the redness of her face attested to Eve’s physical exhaustion; truly she thought she could not, would not, survive this birthing.
    But the voice of her husband, like a beacon of light that cut through the deepest darkness, drove Eve to keep going, told her that she had to, for his sake, for the sake of her daughter.
    Then, another voice, one infinitely calm and controlled, almost bored, broke through the haze and confusion that surrounded Eve.
    “Mrs. Garrison, push! You need to push!”
    And Eve pushed. She pushed as hard as she could, putting every ounce of her remaining strength behind that push, and, with another furious cry, the birthing was done.
    “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Garrison! It’s a girl!”
    Adam Garrison smiled down at his wife, tears blurring his vision.
    His smile abruptly disappeared when he heard the single continuous beep of the heart monitor that could only mean one thing.
    “Eve!” yelled Adam. “Eve! Stay with me! Don’t die! Please for the love of God don’t die!”
    Eve’s eyes fluttered open once more, and Adam smiled in relief.
    “Mary.” Eve said weakly. “The baby’s name will be Mary.” She stated it matter-of-factly, bluntly. And, with one final smile at the man she loved most, Eve Garrison left the world of the living.
    Adam knew, even as it occurred, that this was the one scene of his life that would haunt his dreams, as well as his every waking moment. The one vision he would never be able to shake, for the rest of his living days. He would always view it as though he were a bystander, looking over at the man, who should be the happiest man on the planet, who, instead, is screaming futilely at his wife, even as he is being dragged away by doctors, to awake, to open her eyes, though she never will again.
    The man who, resigned to his fate, walks to his firstborn daughter in the nursery.
    The man whose first words to his daughter are “I hate you”.