Absolute Sunset by Kata Mlek

pain should have faded away by now. But everything returned, all the memories that no mother would recall willingly. Memories of a labor ward filled with blood. Of screaming midwives, their hands stuck into Sabina’s body almost up to the elbows. Of the doctor practically jumping on her belly.
    “Push!” he’d screamed back then. He had stunk of garlic, and he squeezed the baby out of her like dry toothpaste from a tube. Her torn skin cracked painfully. “Damn it, that’s long, I’ll need to close that!”
    The labor itself wasn’t the only thing that went wrong with Hanka. While she was pregnant, Sabina had been happy. She’d felt all right. Confident. Important. She’d liked the constant attention people paid to her well-being, the compliments, Janusz’s admiration, and the fact that he agreed to everything. He indulged her every single whim.
    Months passed quickly. Sabina had prepared to be a mum—she would walk with the expensive baby carriage that they had luckily managed to buy, with Hanka dressed in a yellow dress, sleeping inside like a cherub on a cloud. And Sabina herself, a proud young woman in short heels. With her hair in a neat bun. With tasteful short nails. Also in dress, a modest one, but emphasizing that even right after the pregnancy she already had her figure back. She would spend time strolling around, chatting with her neighbours, greeting the elderly. “What a lovely little girl!”—smiling at them—“As pretty as her mother”—thanking them for their kind words.
    But Hanka—she’d never wanted to close her eyes, not for a fleeting moment. As if the fresh air annoyed her. She would cry loudly, despite always being carried, spending all her time hanging on Sabina’s neck. Caterwauling. Colicky. Vomiting. All Sabina’s clothes stank of puke. Or of scrambled-egg-colored baby poop. Even her hair absorbed the awful odor.
    She hadn’t slept a wink during this period. It was simply impossible to get any rest with Hanka around. This wasn’t at all the way she’d imagined it. Instead of walking lazily around the estate, Sabina had spent her time trying to satisfy her daughter’s needs somehow. But the baby wouldn’t stop crying. Finally Sabina had given up. She decided to let Hanka howl. She had to shut up eventually. Sabina had spent whole days sitting at the table, just staring at its surface. She had said nothing—she’d had no desire to talk. She hadn’t eaten or drunk. She hadn’t been in the mood for anything.
    Now, as Sabina waited between contractions, she decided that she would never give birth to another child, including this one. Nobody and nothing would convince her. “Hanka number two” was out of question. If the doctors wanted to, they could take the baby out by force—she wasn’t going to raise a finger to help them. She would get in the way if she could. Oh yes! If she could push, she could refuse to push. That was it! But her body wanted to get rid of the child. It arched and stretched. It pushed. Sabina was barely able to slow it down. She felt like nothing but a puppet, with someone else pulling her strings, so the labor went ahead despite her.
    Finally a nurse showed up. She had a stern face and a thick moustache. She made a thudding noise with her heavy clogs.
    “We’re going into labor!” she announced, uninterested. “We’re getting up!” she ordered, then waited, stamping her feet like a character from a cartoon. Sabina felt like slapping the woman across the face.
    But she dragged herself out of bed and went to the labor ward, nearly crawling on her knees. A few women were there already. One was screaming, another one puffing. Sabina didn’t really care. Every woman goes through the same thing. There was nothing to look at. The room resembled a hairdresser’s—a row of chairs, woman after woman. Each one of them was there for the same reason.
    Sabina had barely made it onto the chair when the contractions began. The midwife leaped up at her