Hope

Story of my Life [Prologue]

...Hi. I'm Hope, and I'm sorta in between a rock in a hard place at the moment. I've done something I shouldn't have done, and now I'm paying the price. But before I explain what has conspired, I might as well tell you my back story, and all that other "good" stuff.

—

I was born in the summer of 1999, on July 7th, at 6:32 in the morning. As my ma puts it, it was a humid and unbearable summer morning. She was casually waking up from her sleep, when she felt the sheets of the bed were no longer dry, but drenched in some type of liquid. Her water had broke while she was sleeping, and she hadn't even noticed.

She screamed for my father, who was already out in the field, hard at work. He heard her shriek and sprinted into the small farmhouse, panting when he reached their room. Once he had caught his breathe, he looked up, only to see my mother groaning in pain. I was coming soon, and neither of them were prepared.

So my father did what any other farmer with no experience in baby delivery would do: he got a wool towel from the kitchen, two oven mitts, and placed himself directly in front of my ma's... you know, the thing babies come out of...

Any who, my birth went a little something like this:

"Macy, I'm gonna need ya to push real hard, baby," my father stated in a very panicked tone. His palms were sweating, his legs trembling, and every part of his body felt as if it were slowly shutting down, but he couldn't let his own wife down, especially at a time like this.

"Har-Harold..." my mother groaned as she was feeling a pain in her lower abdomen,"It... it hurts like HELL!" she screamed in agonizing pain. "I don't think I can mu-muster the strength..." she was cut off by my father's suddenly calm voice-

"Listen here, Macy, my doll: you need to work through this with me, like the strong women you are. Otherwise, you could lose a precious living thing, that hasn't even begun to see the world yet." His voice was calm and relaxed, with a hint of worry, but he hid the worry all too well. " You can do this, I'm here for ya. Now, push."

I guess my father's words sparked something in Ma, because next thing he knew, she was pushing and groaning like there was no tomorrow. She was in so much pain, yet she was able to endure it, and, about fifteen or so minutes later, I was out of her, and wrapped in the wool towel. Ma said I was screaming and crying when I first came out, but I eventually settled down, and fell asleep in her arms.

—

Fast forward a few years to my sixth birthday. It was a crisp summer morning, the sun shining, the birds chirping their heads off, the light breeze flowing through my golden locks, it was beautiful, and, on top of that, it was the most important day of the year: my birthday, duh.

I had awoken early that morning, I think it was around 6:30 AM, weary but still excited for the day ahead. My ma and father had told me they were planning something very special for this birthday; they even said it would top what they had done for my last five birthdays! I was excited, anxious, and a little nervous, but I could care less about the butterflies in my stomach. I was ready for what they had planned.

I recall running into their room, seeing Ma still asleep, and slowly, carefully, walking around the bed frame to her side, staring contently at the way her stomach rose up and down every time she took a breathe. She looked so peaceful. But, all nice things must come to an end, and, being the little rascal I was back then, decided to wake her up in an interesting way.

I got one of the oven mitts from the kitchen, and slowly crept up the stairs, making sure she didn't hear me enter her room, and making sure my father wasn't in the house. As I slowly crept up to her, I could hear her breathing gently. I felt bad for what I was about to do, but, I must admit, I was ready to laugh at how she reacts.