“Ah… ohhhh… aaaaah.” A series of hard breaths came from Ada’s mouth. She had gone through this before, but for some reason this time seemed different. The sharp contractions were more than ten minutes apart. She had no watch; her internal clock just told her the time. It's easy to count the minutes until you have to bear the next shooting, excruciating pain.
“Woman, you needs to get to the bed. You sound disgusting.” Her husband Jonah had no sympathy for Ada’s pregnancy. He viewed himself as a real man of the Thicket. His large muscular frame turned away from her thinking: Women—their purpose is to wash, clean, cook, and have sex. Babies are part of the deal; it’s their problem. That’s what a woman’s for.
“I’m headed for the bedroom.” Ada spoke as she shuffled her feet across the crudely-honed pine floor slowly moving toward her bed. Her first son, Adam, lay asleep in a large wooden cradle under the window. The sun slipped through the dull-colored curtains filtering a stream of light spotlighting the young child in his bed.
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