Poor Sweet Child [banefam]

 
Walk | Talk | Think
 
Life had since become a blur. Tahlia hardly registered the changing of the days, did not keep tabs on the hours as they passed, and fell out of sync with the world around her. She felt entirely apart from it, a lost soul with nothing to tether her to this harsh and heavy reality. Her days were spent in a dazed stupor, lying about listlessly either within her den or beside the mimosa tree. She forgot to sleep, to drink, to eat. If not for her children, she surely would have starved not only herself but the tiny lives growing within her. 

Her unborn children were the only company she kept willingly. They grew within her, getting stronger by the day while she felt herself growing weaker and more lethargic. She should have been more mindful of them, but grief was a difficult thing. It distracted her, consumed her, and left her little time or energy to devote to anything but her own personal loss. The kids did their part - offering her meals, taking turns spending time with her - but she very rarely recognized their efforts. Her world had been shattered, her anchor lost. She felt too crippled by depression to truly care beyond what immediately affected her. 

Which was why she had not noticed how still they had been this day when before they had been so active. They waited with anticipation and Tahlia remained oblivious, spending her late morning lying upon her side curled up within her den that was too large for just her. It felt cold and empty inside, but if she went too far one of her children would simply fetch her back again and guide her home so she stayed. And it was lucky she did. 

The first pain was hardly a pain at all, so minuscule that she nearly wrote it off as a singular cramp, but eventually another came, and another, and more. She fidgeted upon the floor of her den, the beginning discomfort growing into something intolerable and eventually unbearable. The lives she carried were on their way, soon to be part of this world and suckling at her side. Just the thought was enough to bring tears to her eyes. This was not something she wanted. Not this way. 

It did not occur to her to call for help or assistance or even for her children. She had driven it into her mind that she was now alone in this world and she acted as if she was, bearing her pain, her birthing, alone and selfishly. But the pain, both emotional and physical, was not something easily stifled, particularly at a time like this. She shifted, stood, turned, trying desperately to make herself as comfortable as she could be while her body prepared for the first child, and with each moment her whines and cries grew louder the closer the first pup came to being born.