POV Liana

**18 years ago**

I move my sore body in the hospital bed after hours of a terrible and stressful labor. I hear my baby crying and cover my ears with my hands.

The sound is sharp.

Stressful! Disturbing!

"Make her stop, Gerald!" I shout furiously while shaking my head back and forth, agitated.

"My love, Clayre just born, it’s natural for her to cry," he says as he tries to soothe her by rocking her in his arms.

I lift my face and tilt it to the side. Through a gap in the curtain separating the beds, I see a woman peacefully sleeping while her husband sobs beside her. "What happened to the woman next to me? Did she lose the baby?" I whisper curiously.

"No, the baby is fine, though a little weak. The mother had a difficult pregnancy, according to her husband’s own words. It’s a girl, like ours." Gerald admires our daughter while speaking. "Unfortunately, there were complications during labor, she needed a cesarean, and the anesthesia had some unexpected effects. They’re hoping the mother wakes up soon, but the prognosis is bad. The husband is taking care of the baby, but he’s shaken and confused." He slowly approaches and sits next to me.

With caution and care, he hands me Clayre. I hold her in my arms and admire how enchanting she is. But since I discovered I was pregnant, I became depressed. Every day was torture, and the pregnancy became a burden.

"She’s beautiful, but she cries a lot." He smiles and gently strokes her delicate little face, sighing in fascination.

"Try feeding her, I’m sure she’ll calm down, and you’ll be able to sleep a bit."

"Go have a coffee, I’ll call the nurse if anything, you haven’t eaten anything today." He nods and stands up, kissing my forehead.

"I’ll be right back!" Gerald walks slowly, smiling and closing the curtains.

I position the baby against my body to breastfeed her. I didn’t want to have children, and when my belly started to grow, I fell into deep sadness. I’m at the peak of 32 years old, and I wanted to enjoy more of life, more of Gerald, before we started a family.

The end of the day is approaching, the sun starts losing its strength, and she continues to cry. I can’t take hearing that high-pitched sound anymore, and my head is about to explode. Clayre has been struggling to adjust to my body. I tried offering her my breast, but a bad feeling won’t let me go through with it.

I’m tired. The natural birth was intense, and seeing her scream in my arms drives me crazy. Irritated, I position her between my legs and cover her completely with the pillow. "Please stop crying, just for a little while, I haven’t been able to sleep." I whisper desperately.

Without thinking, overwhelmed by stress, I press the pillow over her to muffle her annoying cries.

She doesn’t stop.

She thrashes, making the volume louder.

I press harder.

Internally, I beg her to stop as I feel the anguish eating away at my soul. After a few minutes, the crying stops, and I finally breathe a sigh of relief, hugging her against my chest. "Thank you, daughter, for sleeping a little."