Thirty-four hours and one needle submerged in the spine later, the doctor tells her patient to push.

“Yes! Yes! More! More!” She chants and suctions.

A gurgling cry. “Look at all that hair!”

Kneading at the freshly emptied womb, she pauses.

No.

She steels herself and calls for four units.

Joree writes professionally in her role as director of external affairs for a statewide nonprofit, but her favorite muses are her two-year-old son and her tender memories.