At first, I sang through the pain.
By the end, I’d given up on singing. I was screaming, sobbing, and cursing, taking some comfort in knowing each surge of pain moved me closer to meeting my second child. The pain would pass and leave in its place a miracle.
And, indeed, ten years to the day after meeting my now-husband, I held our second child in my arms and rejoiced.
I really didn’t want an epidural.
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