good morning, six year old

I remember standing in the living room of a teeny tiny yellow house.It had been raining. It was dark. And quiet.It was that time of day that was no longer night, but not yet morning. The world slept. I held on to your dad tightly, rocking back and forth, sure that I would die any minute. Watching the clock, timing contractions, wondering when to go to the hospital. Wishing each minute would pass