Nature Babies

When I found out I was pregnant, I ran away. I didn't go far. I lived in a children's home, and I'm sure there was a huge fuss made, but I like to think no-one noticed I was gone, because I don't like thinking about them being upset about me disappearing. Worst still, I couldn't turn to the father of the baby. He had cheated on me, and when I got upset about it he acted like I was crazy. So there I was, expecting a baby, alone in a forest near the home, alone and hoping, for their own good, nobody even notices I'm gone. I had my sleeping bag and changes of clothes, most of them stolen and far too big, so I can grow into them with a baby belly. I have a bag of food that shouldn't spoil, and several bottles of water. I knew it wouldn't last me nine whole months, but all I could really do was do my best, you know.? Get at least one good meal a day, keep warm, keep well, sleep well.

So I watched the months rush by, winter turning to spring turning to summer turning to autumn. The beauty of nature, first hand. No give, all take. Eating apples and chocolate and pastries, and doing well, and slowly running low on supplies. I never threw up. Morning sickness just wasn't there for me.

Before I go any further, my name is Stephania-Raven, better known as Stevie Rae. I am 15 years old, I know, young to be becoming a mother. I was going out with this boy. He was the same age as me, his name was Raven (heh) and he knew how to really get into a girl's head. I tried to abort the baby first, when I found out. I was too young for a child, had been nothing more than a game to the father and didn't feel I'd be good enough, but the damn thing wouldn't miscarry. I was stuck with them, and I panicked, and then there I was, running into the forest.

As month four approached all I had left in terms of food were two chocolate biscuits, and even then I hadn't eaten for three days. I'm so hungry I could eat all the food back at the home and then some. I stuff the last two biscuits in my mouth greedily, savouring the taste as the spit floods in to finally get some digestion going. I'm getting awful migraines. I swear once one even made me black out, and I can't sleep. I'm showing, and I keep having to wriggle out of my sleeping bag to squat behind bushes. I was actually confident about my body before this. I wasn't fat...what fat I did have stopped me looking too top-heavy, because I guess I had a rather substantial chest. I had short, blonde curls and guys liked my looks, so much so they didn't much care to get to know me. I was a shag puppet to them. Or maybe that was just my imagination. Raven was my first after all. My stomach growls and I have to find something more substantial to fill it, or else. I don't want to starve, and it'll happen much faster with a baby inside me. I worry then. What if the baby dies, and it's gone to the point where I'll have to endure awful pain just to push a corpse out of my body? That would be much worse than giving birth to a live one, even if I did try and get rid of it. A crawl around (when I stand I am oh so tired and dizzy) shows me there are berries and apples around, as Spring has come again. I start eating, and I eat and eat until I can no more, and even then, some berries are not yet ripe. I eat them anyway. Food is food, and I think I have a strong stomach. I can't fit in normal clothes any more, I'm already on the extra big stuff. I hate it.

I was certain my baby was dead after a while, the way things were going. I'm still dead hungry, no matter how much I eat...although I can't find much, so I can't eat much, so I understand how I'm so damn ravenous. Then I feel something. I haven't been looking at how big I'm getting. I know I've been getting bigger, but hey, maybe I'm dumb, or just pessimistic, but I've cried over it before. I'm too hot. It's summer and I'm roasting, bordering on heatstroke. I'm staying by the river in the woodland, so I have plenty to drink but little to eat, and god, I feel awful, and my legs are cramping. I've lost track of how many months along I am, and I feel a strange feeling beneath my belly, like something in there is moving. I look down and put my hand on my belly. I've been wearing the same shirt for a long time and I think it's too tight to remove now. I sing. I sing a simple song.
"You think I'm an ignorant savage
and you've been so many places, I guess it must be true...
But still I cannot see
If the savage one is me
how can there be so much that you don't know?
You don't know.

You think you own whatever land you land on
The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim..." I trailed off as the baby kicked. My baby was alive, but I wasn't relieved, I was scared. How do I care for a baby in a situation like this, I mean?

Some time on I sat under a tree, rubbing a hand over my swollen belly and eating the last apple of the season. It was winter again, and the apple was long past realistic edibility, but what the hey? I'd been eating leaves and grass I've been so hungry. I haven't slept for a while. Not with my back and my legs, and how hard it is to get comfy, and how cold it is. The baby isn't moving much, and I still don't know how far along I am, but it's far enough that I'm getting those weird practice contractions. The next time I go to the toilet, there's some strange goop in my underwear. Pink. I dismiss it. If it has any serious relevance, I don't know it.

Later on I read up on this stuff and find out it's a sign of labour.

Alone, in the woods, a couple of days later, I have these dull aches in my belly. I've eaten fine, found some chocolate someone had dropped on a walk. It had popping candy in it, and it was divine. I don't know what the ache is, but it's probably, like, the weight of the baby. Then one really hurts! I gasp and grab my belly. I look down and I know. It's on its way. Instantly I'm in tears. I'm scared, so scared. I want to go to hospital, but I don't even know the way out of the woods. I'm hopelessly lost. I want my mum, which is something I haven't wanted for a long while. Her name had been Edna, and she had been beautiful. She was American, but she was also dead. "Mummy!" I mewl out pitifully anyway. Another contraction comes and I keep walking, hoping I'll find some way out of the wood, somewhere I can have my baby. But by the end of the day, I'm still in early labour, and I eat and drink and sit down, wondering what to do. There's no change in the pace for the whole of that first day, and the next, and then slowly, on the third day, they get closer and longer and stronger. I'm walking, and then one comes on so strong I have to stop and lean against a tree, moaning and covering my mouth with my hand. I throw up at the next one and the tears start again. I sob, cry loudly. I don't want this to happen and I just drop to my knees, wrapping my arms around my belly, curling up. It hurts, and I can't move when the contractions come. I'm curled up on the cold ground for hours, sobbing and whining, and ever so scared. It's dark soon, and they're these cascading waves of pain. When it becomes dark, my waters break, and my tears have died down. I've no more to cry, and I'm sat there, giving shouts of pain. I feel shivery and sick, and I probably am, but at the same time I'm covered in sweat and it's awful. I'd do anything for a little pain relief. I'm digging my nails into the tree, biting my hair which has now grown very long. I'm screaming. I'm keeping my teeth clenched, but even that's a chore. I get this need to start pushing and drop to all fours, following the need, doing as my body commands and screaming. I want my mother! I cry for her again.

I'm exhausted, but the child finally comes. I roll onto my back, force myself to sit up, open my bag and wrap my baby into a jumper, and cuddle it close. It's a she. Then, I have another contraction, painful enough to make me yell. I'm still having contractions. I lie down again, and cry and whine and want it to be over. Another amniotic sack burst? Waters break again and another baby, I feel another one coming and all I can think of is my own panic, pain. The second twin is born and my tear-filled eyes glaze over. I bring the second one close and shuffle her into the same jumper, and pass out.

When I wake up, I hear screaming. I'm sore all over, and both the twins are still moving, like some demented miracle. I look at them a long while, their skinny frames, goosebumps on their bloody skin, gummy mouths open and screaming. They must be hungry, I think, and as though it's an instinct, I lift my shirt and hold each one so she can feed. They're both girls. My girls. I have no home, but I have a duty to care for, raise and protect my girls...

My Ruby and Violet...