The Snow Angel, Part Eight

Instruments clattered. Latex gloves and masked faces loomed beyond the blur of Amber’s squinted eyes. She groaned louder and deeper with each increasing, merciless cramp torquing her womb.

Amber gripped the sweat drenched hospital sheet at her sides. Pain clenched her abdomen, searing through her entire body with horrific intensity. Every other muscle tightened, while her jaws spread wide. A guttoral sound erupted from her mouth. The growling scream filled the room and threatened to burst the fluorescent bulbs glaring overhead.

Her pulse throbbed at the inside of her eardrums.

Muffled voices swirled in the torrent around her. “Almost … Push!”

Heels digging into the stirrups, her legs thrust with such a desperate press she might stand upright on them. A searing pain ripped at her tissue and drilled through her core, triggering a gut-wrenching screechy roar.

Energy rippled away from her. Amber’s trembling body collapsed against the stiff mattress. Another cry rose from near her quivering legs. Strident, yet smallish and plaintive.

Heaving, panting, she shifted her weak, damp shoulders upward. Semi-sitting on the inclined bed, she accepted the ruddy, squealing life and cradled it in her arms.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse said.

Amber caressed tender, purplish fingers. Tiny. Perfect. “Such a blessing to meet you, sweet one.”

The nurse asked, “Do you have a name?”

Amber stroked a petal-soft nose and pointed chin. The blush-skinned, wriggling infant turned slightly toward her. As if snuggling into her chest. Spasms and weariness faded under an exhilarating rush of tingles over Amber’s skin. Her fatigued cheeks burst into a broad grin. “I know only one name for such a perfect little girl–Angela.”


“In fact, this is love for God: to keep his commands. And his commands are not burdensome, ¬†for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith” (1 John 5:3-4).

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