In the days that followed, Nathan never knew when it was day or night.
Light never came. Darkness never left.
Everything was the same: calm, warm, and hazy, like a long dream that never truly ended.
The only clue to time he could understand was movement.
If his world swayed—gently rocking, bouncing, sometimes shaken just a little—that meant Mama was walking, sitting, riding in a vehicle, or doing something out there. That meant daytime.
But if everything was still—if his small world lay quiet, accompanied only by the steady heartbeat and the rhythmic breathing like a lullaby—then it was night.
It was in those moments he could move more freely.
To stretch a little, to turn his body, or simply touch the warm wall with the tips of his unfinished fingers.
He knew that if he moved too forcefully while Mama was awake, a soft voice would come from outside.
"Ow… Little one, don't kick so hard…"
And whenever that happened, guilt would wash over him.
This body wasn't his alone.
He was a guest in someone who loved him even before she knew who he was.
So each night—or whenever Mama slept—he would stretch only gently.
Like a guest who didn't wish to disturb the owner of the house.
Sometimes he would tilt his head.
Sometimes curl up his tiny legs.
Once, he tried flicking his hand—but it made Mama groan softly.
Since then, he limited himself to small movements. Tender. Quiet.
And in those quiet moments, Nathan developed another habit: listening.
He listened to the world outside.
The television.
The clatter of dishes.
Soft laughter.
Sometimes muffled sobs.
Sometimes phone conversations cut short halfway.
"I don't know what to do, Mom… he isn't even born yet, and already I'm so afraid…"
That was Mama's voice.
And Nathan felt as though he were reading poetry, spoken through a crack.
---
In recent days, Nathan had often felt the same thing: the air around him grew heavy. The warm walls that usually pulsed in a steady rhythm seemed to slow, like a song losing its melody. At times there was a long sigh from beyond. At times only silence, too drawn-out, too still.
Mama was sad again.
Nathan could feel it, though he could not see her face. He knew, because Mama's body was different when she was sad. The warmth lessened. Her movements slowed, as though weighed down. And that heartbeat—the one that used to soothe him—now felt hesitant. As if it wanted to pause for a moment.
Nathan wriggled faintly. Wanting to say something. But the only voice he had was the whisper inside his small mind.
"Why are you sad, Mama?" he asked in silence. "Just tell me. I'm right here."
He pressed his tiny face against the soft wall. Imagining that if only he could, he would touch her cheek, or hold her hand. But all he could do was cling close and whisper within.
"Don't worry, Mama. When I'm born… I'll hold you."
The words spilled from him without knowing how. Yet he was certain. Certain with all his heart.
"Mama won't be sad anymore. I promise."
And just then, whether by chance or not, Mama's hand brushed over her belly. Warmth seeped in, like an embrace from a world beyond.
"Forgive me, sweetheart…" Mama murmured, barely audible. "I'm just so confused."
Nathan didn't know what confusion meant. But he knew what Mama needed wasn't an answer. What she needed was assurance—that everything would be all right.
And Nathan wanted to be that assurance.
For now, though, he could only remain in the dark… wriggling faintly, as if to say,
"I hear you, Mama. I'm here."
---
Suddenly, without any warning, the small world that had always been his refuge began to change.
The space that was usually warm and spacious tightened without mercy.
The soft walls that had always been pliant and patient began to press in. Slowly. Then harder. And harder still. Like the hands of a giant squeezing his entire body, kneading him from every direction.
"Ugh!" Nathan groaned. "This… hurts!"
He writhed. But not for comfort this time. For survival. Every movement forced his body deeper into the pressure, as though something outside was pushing him out. He didn't know where to go.
"Mama?" he cried out in panic. "Help! What's happening?!"
But all he heard were Mama's groans.
Faint… restrained… pained.
The sound hollowed him out. His own pain suddenly meant nothing compared to Mama's voice, straining through agony.
"I'm being born?"
The realization struck him like lightning crackling through his nerves.
"Okay. Okay! I'll help, Mama!"
He bent his tiny legs, mustering every ounce of strength.
Then—kick. As hard as he could.
His body shifted. Slid. The walls around him pressed tighter, driving him further.
He writhed again. Curled. Bowed his head. Kicked once more.
"Just a little longer, Mama. I'll help. We'll do this… together."
But again his body was crushed. His head squeezed from both sides. Pain, heat, suffocation.
"It's like being born… or destroyed all at once."
And in the midst of it all—panic, fear, pain, awe—Nathan heard a new sound.
A sound he had never heard before.
Not Mama's.
Not Papa's.
Not his own thoughts.
A clamoring of voices. Shouts. Commands. The ring of a bell. The clash of metal.
And light.
For the very first time, Nathan saw light.
---
Slowly, Nathan's head pushed through.
The walls that had once crushed him now began to release, though not without leaving pain behind.
The warm, shadowed world gave way to something… blinding.
Light. So bright.
Though his eyes could not yet truly see, his hazy lids caught it like the first spark of sunlight breaking upon the sea. He squinted instinctively. Then—hands. A pair of hands caught his head, pulling the rest of his tiny body into a world he had never known.
Air. Cold.
Noise. Echoing everywhere.
And yet, amidst the chaos, Nathan whispered in his heart,
"Mama… I'm here now. I've been born."
He wanted to smile. To tell her everything would be fine. But before he could even finish the thought—whump!—his fragile body was turned upside down.
Then SMACK!
A sharp sting landed on his small backside.
"Ow! That hurts!" he cried inwardly, startled and indignant.
But what spilled from his mouth wasn't protest.
It was a wail.
A raw, piercing cry—loud, ragged, full of air and strangeness that scraped his throat and lungs for the very first time.
"Waaa!"
The sound wasn't his voice. Yet it came from him.
This body was truly new. And the only voice it carried… was weeping.
Amid the clamor of the delivery room, Nathan heard the one voice that mattered more than any other.
"Thank You, God…" Mama's whisper broke into sobs. "My baby… you're safe…"
And then, at last, his small, red, trembling body was laid against her chest.
Warmth. Damp. The thrum of a heartbeat.
The place that once sheltered him… was now the place that embraced him.
And though his mouth could only cry, in his heart he murmured once more,
"Sorry, Mama… I took so long finding my way out."
---