Outside the faint rumbling of thunder could be heard in the distance, streaks of lightening illuminated the room every few minutes. With each passing second the husband grew more fearful for his beloved wife. He would stop his pacing and stare lovingly down into her visage, watching her face twist and contort in pain. Her fever was getting worse, if she didn't give birth to the child soon the midwife feared that they would both be lost. Every other minute it seemed the midwife would glance at the husband, he could tell her feelings by the look in her deep oval shaped eyes. He knew one of them was going to die tonight. He had always been taught that a death meant the birth of a new life. It saddened him more than anyone knew that it was his wife that would die this night, and his daughter that would be born. Suddenly a piercing shreik broke his train of thought. It was his wife; the contractions were coming faster now, almost as though timing it with each clap of the thunder outside.

The midwife sat up, becoming more alert. Her deep oval eyes narrowed as she reached over taking a towel and placing it between the mother to be's legs. She held her hands out, palms, awaiting the arrival of the child. The husband quickly crossed over to the other side of the bed, reaching out he took the delicate hand of his wife's into his muscular one, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Though he knew she wouldn't feel it, somehow he knew that she was aware of him. It eased his mind somewhat to know that he was able to touch her normally soft skin. Now it was cold and clammy to the touch. They had called doctors out to find out what was wrong with his beloved wife, no one knew. The midwife's assistant looked across to him and offered a reassuring smile.

The lightening seemed to hammer out across the night sky, illuminating everything all at once for a brief moment. It seemed as though an eternity had passed, yet it had been only minutes. All three figures sat patiently waiting for the arrival of the child. The mother was beginning to take a turn for the worse. She was bleeding badly and there was nothing the midwife could do to stop it. The husband watched in complete horror as the thick crimson liquid flowed out from between his wife's legs. Nothing, there was nothing they could do. Her breathing was nothing more than heavy gasps, her entire body was convulsing violently. The husband had to hold her down so that she did not harm herself or the unborn child. She was slowly dying; each hoping that at least the child would make it before she took her last breath.

Upon the floor lay at least a dozen rags, soaked with her blood. Tears welled up in the husband's eyes, spilling out down sunkist cheeks as he stared down into the face of his pride and joy, his wife. He could see her face growing pale; her breathing was becoming slower. He leaned down and whispered softly into her ear, the last words he would ever speak to her. "I love you Alexis.." Just as the words passed his lips she gave a great push. The storm outside stopped as suddenly as it kicked up, as though in tune with her being. A tiny cry of life broke the silence of the room; the midwife's face filled with great sorrow yet joy as she held in her arms the writhing body of a baby girl. The husband stared down in disbelief at the peaceful expression upon his wife's face. She was gone.

Numbly he stood up from his place by his wife's side. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead gently, his salty hot tears spilling onto her face. He walked over to a cabinet located on the far end of the room and took out a long white sheet. He walked back and laid it over the body of his wife. At least she wouldn't feel anymore pain; at least she would suffer no more. The midwife stood up, cleaning off the baby and snipping the umbilical chord. She wrapped the newborn babe in a small pink blanket and handed it over to the father.

As soon as he looked down into the small face of his baby girl, the tears began to fall faster down his cheeks. She was the spitting image of her mother. His muscular body trembled as he held her in his hands, lowering his frame down onto the floor to sit cross-legged. Clutching the babe in his hands almost as though desperately trying to hold onto the last memories of his wife. He rocked back and uttering a low mourn filled cry; the best part of his being was gone.

Silently the midwife and her assistant crossed over to the door, and slipped out into the bleak night. Leaving him there, cradling his child with one arm, and clutching the hand of his dead wife with the other. Trying to hold onto her as long as he could. In the mourning they would come and take her away, to bury her in the mountains with the rest of their family.