Woya had created a private hell for herself, and she did her best to keep it that way. The children were allowed to venture and lead the way without expectations of being considerate of their mother's pregnancy. She told herself she didn't want it to hold them back, but the truth was she struggled to accept her own reality. Because this time, the karma was sure to catch up. This time, there was no way she could be so lucky as to survive labor again. It felt as certain down in her bones as the love for her family, and so Woya did everything she could to ignore it.
She didn't seek out a den, didn't try to spin even a frail web of safety, carrying on as though she weren't swelling with new life. Even when the contractions set in, no longer false but strong, rhythmic, painful. She tried to get to water, but her legs gave out as another wave of agony radiated from her gut.
"Fuck," she hissed, and tried to stand, but her body didn't want to allow it.