Heaven must be the drawings she makes in the sand just before the waves wash them away,
akin to the the fleeting minutes before contractions threaten to break her entire being apart.
Then comes the hell, the blinding pain tearing through her belly, followed by an overwhelming urge to bear down as her grip on her husband's hand tightens until she fears she might crush it.
"I can see the babe's head, Mrs. Lei," Mrs. March, the middle-aged midwife, says, watching carefully between Neva's knees. "You're almost there."
Neva sinks back against the tub's wall while Rhett gently wipes the sweat from her forehead with a cool, damp cloth,
worry gradually draining the color from his face.
Her face scrunches as another contraction surges through her, a cry escaping her as she bears down against the immense pressure filling her pelvis.
"You're almost there, Mrs. Lei," the midwife encourages, glancing up at her.
"I can't..." She shakes her head,
a sob escaping her as exhaustion seems to have bleached her bones. "I can't—"
He gently brushes the damp curls clinging to her forehead. "Just a little more, Angel," he says gently.
"Then we can finally meet our baby."
"Breathe, dear..." Mrs. Barlowe's worried voice reaches her from somewhere beside her, but she can't keep her eyes open.
After she'd lowered herself into the birthing pool amid the warm amber candlelight,
everything else blurred until each contraction consumed every part of her being.
Her labour had progressed rapidly within an hour of the midwife's arrival, but fortunately, they had already prepared the birth tub with warm water.
Just as another silent prayer rises in her heart, woven together with Mrs. Barlowe's audible murmurs of prayer, the terrible tightening in her belly shatters her every sense until nothing remains but pain.
She clenches her teeth and groans as the midwife encourages her to push, and she yields to the agony tearing through her as she bears down.
She collapses back. Nothing. Still nothing.
"Just one more good push, Mrs. Lei," Mrs. March says.
Neva shakes her head. She can't do it anymore.
"Look at me, Angel." Rhett gently caresses her cheek.
She opens her eyes, meeting his softened gaze, her lips trembling with exhaustion.
"Just one more," he says. "You're almost at the end."
Another contraction comes roaring through, the world blurring around her as she gives everything she has to this final, agonizing push.
Then she feels something warm and slippery slip free of her.
The midwife gently brings the baby to the surface.
A little boy, slick with water, his tiny body coated in white vernix and streaked with blood.
A loud, piercing cry tears through the silence of the parlor.
The midwife smiles before settling the tiny baby boy against her chest.
Her trembling hands immediately cradle him, supporting his little body as he lies quietly against her.
It's... it's real.
A trembling sigh escapes her husband as he sinks back onto the floor, as though completely spent.
The midwife lets out a soft chuckle and Mrs. Barlowe places a warm, dry towel over the baby boy.
"Are you alright?" he asks softly.
She nods faintly, still unable to comprehend that the baby gifted to her by her Father in the name of love, within the promise of a sacred union is finally here.
That she finally gets to hold him in her arms.
"He is beautiful, dear," Mrs. Barlowe murmurs, a tender smile upon her lips.
She smiles faintly, her eyes brimming with tears as the baby gives a tiny yawn.
"I think he looks like me," he murmurs, gently brushing his thumb over their baby's forehead.
She chuckles, tears slipping down her cheeks as love, wonder, and gratitude wash over her in a wave of pure euphoria.
He rests his forehead against hers and a prayer of gratitude leaves him.
He presses a kiss to her brow as he wraps an arm around her, before they watch their baby with a swell of inexpressible joy.
Their love made flesh in this tiny, miraculous soul.
"Thank you, Angel," he says softly. "He's perfect."
A smile curls across her lips as she meets his eyes.
He smiles and leans in to kiss her. "I love you." His voice shakes. "So... so much."
"I love you too," she whispers before glancing down at the little baby nestled against her chest, breathing softly and steadily. "We love you too, little Rhean."
And for a heartbeat, she could swear his tiny lips curve into a smile.