NOAH GARDEN'S POV
Something had to be going wrong.
The pressure suffocating me from all sides overwhelmed my senses. It felt like my fat was melting, my muscles were tearing, and my bones were being crushed. The pain was indescribable, more intense than anything I had ever experienced.
My muscles seemed to rip apart, and my bones creaked under an invisible force. The flesh of my body twisted with every movement, unable to shield me from the agony enveloping me. I thought this must be what hell feels like.
Instinctively, I wanted to scream to release some of my suffering. But something stopped me: a liquid threatened to flood my lungs.
I realized that screaming wouldn't just endanger my life. With great effort, I held back the cry fighting to escape my throat.
Suddenly, I felt an unbearable pressure in my skull. It was as if my head were being crushed, as if my brain were being pulled out through my nose and eyes. The pain was so intense that, for a moment, I considered wrapping the umbilical cord around my neck to end it all.
Then I heard a soft cry, like that of a woman. Wait, umbilical cord? Crying? Only then did I realize my situation. I was being born. I was a baby.
Curiously, my first thought wasn't panic or disbelief. Instead, I found myself reflecting: «So, the light at the end of the tunnel is actually the one coming through the vagina…»
I couldn't believe giving birth was so painful. Did all humans have to endure this hell just to be born?
It seemed incredible to me that humanity kept reproducing this way. The only reason I didn't give up was because of my mother.
I could feel the pain of childbirth not only in my own groans but also in the contractions of the uterine walls surrounding me.
She wasn't alone in this struggle; my mother was with me. Through tears, the woman gathered strength, and the pressure threatening to crush me suddenly shifted.
In the decisive moment, I added my feeble efforts to hers, though they were the weak efforts of a baby. When my skull finally escaped the birth canal, I let out the scream I had been holding back.
A sea of stars passed before my eyes, transforming into a blurry symphony of colors, only to be abruptly replaced by a blinding light that forced me to close my eyes. For the first time, I could cry.
But little by little, the world around me began to come into focus.
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I felt was a blinding light. I squinted, uncomfortable, trying to focus my blurry vision.
I saw a small arm moving on its own in front of me. It took me a moment to realize that arm belonged to me, though I still didn't feel it as mine.
My body was beyond my control, performing only reflexive movements in response to external stimuli. I recalled what modern science from my previous world said: this was due to the immature brain activity of a newborn. They were right: my brain hadn't fully matured yet.
With effort, I directed my gaze toward the two figures watching me from above. My still-developing vision only caught blurry shadows of their faces. My hearing wasn't much better.
I decided to analyze my surroundings, as it seemed to be the only thing I could do.
Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the brightness.
It seemed I had been born in some kind of satanic summoning ritual because that room was lit only by a couple of candles, and we were on the floor atop a bed of straw.
As she held me, a woman of astonishing beauty gazed at me. She had long, silky hair of a reddish gold and dazzling green eyes that shone like emeralds.
She radiated a warmth unfamiliar to me, something that drew you in without you realizing it. Her naturally colored lips gleamed in the twilight as rays of light spread through the small wooden room, making her look like an angel.
I could almost see the halo above her head.
I reached out my hands toward her, longing to touch this divine being, and found another hand slowly wrapping around mine. Her pale face filled with love as her hand gently caressed my cheek.
Then my mother pulled down her shirt, revealing her bare chest, before gently pressing my face against it.
I couldn't understand what she was saying, but I think I got the point.
It was fascinating to feel how my mouth moved instinctively when pressed against my mother's chest. It was an involuntary movement, like that of my arms and legs, and I felt like a little animal seeking shelter.
I felt a warm liquid flow down my throat without tasting much of it, as if I were drinking water right after waking up in the morning.
I could focus on drinking breast milk because my limbs didn't move, thanks to my mother wrapping me in a blanket, like a cocoon protecting a butterfly before its first flight, while carefully supporting my neck as my esophagus filled amidst maternal love.
I didn't pull my lips away from my mother's chest until I couldn't drink anymore, and my lips stopped moving reflexively when I felt full.
My mother lifted me and began patting my back. I thought I had something stuck in my stomach, but it was just a burp. I felt renewed, and the woman's laughter was music to my ears, like a siren's song, as I felt my eyelids closing.
On the second day, my world changed completely.
My mother, showing the strength of a tiger, decided she was done resting and got up to carry out her daily tasks.
I had the chance to see her in her entirety. Despite having given birth the day before, she was an attractive woman, about twenty years old.
Undoubtedly, she was well-endowed in every sense, with a toned body perfected through effort. Her hair, reaching down to her shoulder blades, was a beautiful golden hue with scattered reddish highlights.
The candlelight made it seem as if flames danced within her.
The days passed slowly. A week after being born, my senses began to develop gradually. However, a newborn's life was far from exciting.
I spent most of my time lying in my crib, unable to move well. I felt incredibly bored and helpless.
Gathering information about my new world was a daunting task. I couldn't even clearly distinguish the passing of days and nights. The reason was simple: I slept almost all the time. A baby's body was terribly inefficient.
I fought against constant drowsiness, but it was a losing battle. As soon as I opened my eyes, my eyelids would close again as if they weighed tons. And when I managed to stay awake for a few moments, hunger would strike immediately.
There was no point in resisting. When the need became unbearable, I resorted to the only method at my disposal: crying at the top of my lungs.
The pride and honor of my past life had no place in my new reality. In desperate moments, desperate measures were required. Crying was the only way to communicate my needs and ensure my survival.
Despite my efforts, my mother hadn't been able to sleep since the first day. There were no signs of my father…
Father… It seemed that, in those times, parenting fell solely on the mother. My mother kept a close eye on me when we were alone at home.
She tucked me in carefully whenever my limbs slipped out from under the blankets, even if she was dozing. She tried to help me sleep after feeding and burping me.
My mother's daily routine consisted of feeding me, burping me, and helping me fall asleep over and over. I pretended to sleep when my mother wanted to help her. She could only sleep for an hour when I pretended to doze.
I saw my mother cry for the first time after a week.
I heard her cry from exhaustion, though her silhouette was still blurry. Her sobs were the opposite of the joyful laughter I heard when I was born. My mother must have been at her limit, as she hadn't slept properly for a week.
I was her first and only child, so it was her first time raising a child. She couldn't go to the bathroom alone and slept at most an hour.
Then she broke down crying, and I realized how hard it had been for her to raise me.
I saw her stop crying to feed me, and in that moment, I felt I could go hungry for a day if it meant my mother could sleep deeply today.
However, my mother grew anxious and called out everywhere when I suppressed my hunger pains and didn't cry.
Twelve times a day, every two hours.
My mother fed and burped me again as if she hadn't cried. My goal wasn't far off or in the future. It was right here, in front of me.