Olivia

The midwife was happy with the progress. Her pregnancy had reached the point where she was unable to hide it anymore, and the well wishes and advice had swept in like the tide. Elijah had become overprotective, much to Olivia’s annoyance. She understood his concerns, childbirth was a dangerous affair, but she was not an invalid and she refused to be treated as much. It caused rising tension in the house, but Olivia wouldn't break on that front.

The early stages of pregnancy had been difficult for her. Morning sickness had been awful and coupled with her deep grief had made for an unpleasant time. As the pregnancy had continued, the illness had receded, but she'd started having trouble sleeping. Willow's gift had proven invaluable in this time, with its entire section dedicated to pregnancy. It was the book who gave her remedies for the sickness, a tonic to help her sleep and the advice to use some old rags to help support her growing bump. It had helped a little with the growing back pain. The potion Willow had recommended had helped more. It wasn't really a sleep aid; Willow had written. In actuality it was a very light muscle relaxant and it seemed enough to help lull her into sleep.

Olivia more than anything wished for her friend. Willow had always been her closest confidant, and her struggles with her pregnancy had been all the harder to bear because she’d not had her closest friend. They had never been through such a large life event without the other and it felt almost foreign to Olivia not to have her there. She still caught herself heading towards Willow’s home.

Things were going well in Olivia’s life. She would always be the first person to say so. Yet she still struggled with her grief. Olivia couldn’t remember a time when Willow had not been at her side, even when Olivia herself had not wanted her there. Willow had been there through everything.

But Willow had taken a path she could not follow on. Olivia tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that when her time did come there would be someone there waiting for her. She had Elijah and this child in this life, and she would try to live it well enough for both of them.

It would break Olivia if she thought too deeply about it. She had now the only thing Willow had wanted from this life and now she would not, could not ever have those things. It was a genuine tragedy and Olivia wasn’t sure that she would ever recover from the loss. She had lost others, both her parents, her uncle. Their losses had hurt, made her lungs heavy, her very soul growing wearier with each death. Yet none of those deaths had felt like a part of her had died, like the colours of the world had dimmed and made her feel hopeless.

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But Willow’s words kept her going: - “We keep going because we have to. Even when it feels the world has crumbled down around us, it keeps going. And so must we.”

In response, Olivia threw herself into getting ready. As her bump grew, she found growing pleasure in perusing the baby section of the clothing stores and purchased wools and clothes to make her own. Elijah too grew more excited with every passing day.

The day they had bought the crib had been the happiest day Olivia’d had since Willow had passed. They would put it together several weeks later. The celebration had been thorough that night. With the crib up, Olivia slowly began to purchase the little things a baby needs, while Elijah turned his mind to furniture. He had decided to hand make the babies draws and he spent many happy hours carving, whistling cheerily.

Olivia was glad for this distraction since he often fluctuated between this joy and genuine fear. It was not uncommon for a pregnancy to terminate or for the effort of labour to kill the baby or the mother. So, Olivia was glad for these quiet moments between the fear. Olivia had taken to using ochre to create small patterns on the walls of the room. They weren’t anything fancy, just traditional swirl patterns, but they made the room feel more comfortable and it was said the patterns would bring good luck and vitality.

Once Elijah had finished the drawers, his friends lending a hand to get it into the room, Olivia felt safe enough to begin making cloths, clothes, and other such paraphernalia for the little one. They were due in the crisp, cool season, so warmer clothing would be needed, and she set herself to this task, often knitting into the night, chatting quietly with Elijah as she leant against his shoulder. It was early in this new tradition that Elijah first felt the child kicking against her stomach, and the pure wonder on his face was a memory Olivia felt she would cherish forever.

From then on, their quiet chats were often punctured with Elijah’s voice entreating the child to kick ‘for daddy’. Intermittent between his begging were kisses, caress and words of love and never before had Olivia felt so loved and so cherished.

There were always visitors throughout the day, people who came to share their stories, their wisdom, their company, and their food. Most wanted to touch the growing bump, to wonder at the life growing within, but these evenings wore solely for them and it for the first time in months, Olivia felt content.