Daphne: get ur ass here and see it in person
Sasha: I’m sorry. This weekend? I’m a horrible sister
Daphne: U are, but I forgive u
Daphne texted a photo of herself sitting on the couch, her belly huge, taking up most of the frame. It would be the last photo Sasha would ever have of her sister.
Daphne: I feel like a whale
Sasha: You look beautiful
Daphne: Like a beautiful whale
Sasha: Any day now, right?
Daphne: That’s what they say. My midwife thinks I may be late. No signs of action yet
Sasha: You better text me when there are signs of action
Daphne: Jay’s on duty for that. Don’t think I’m gonna wanna be texting anybody lol
Sasha: I’m excited for you
Daphne: Thanks, boo. I’m excited too. Ur gonna be the best auntie
That was it. Sasha abandoned the text conversation to reply to an incoming text from Professor Williams, her faculty adviser. Days later, she would still be thinking about how she wished she’d ended with an “I love you” text. It was something small, silly, but it would have offered a bit of comfort.
Sasha got a text from Jay the very next night, just after 7 p.m. He sent it to Sasha and her mother.
Contractions started
Sasha texted back with a party-hat emoji, something she would deeply regret later. Her mother responded with a barrage of questions: When did they start? How far apart were they? What was the pain on a scale of one to ten? How was Daphne feeling?
Jay didn’t have time to get into details. He just wrote:
I’ll keep y’all posted
Sasha knew that labor wasn’t fast and dramatic like it was in the movies. It could take hours, days, even. Her mother had said she was in labor with Daphne for twenty-seven hours and with Sasha for ten hours—firstborns took their sweet time, she said.
Still, Sasha sat on the edge of her couch, awaiting any further information. After a few hours, she texted her mother to ask if she’dheard anything. She hadn’t, but she said this was all normal. They were probably just in the beginning stages, focusing on managing the pains, preparing for the real battle ahead.
We should both get some sleep. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was still laboring in the morning.
Sasha took her mother’s advice, going to bed around 11 p.m. She couldn’t sleep, though. At the time, she chalked it up to excitement. In retrospect, it was anxiety. Her body could not rest because something didn’t feel right—a sisterly premonition.
Sometime during the night, she did manage to fall asleep, because the next thing she knew, morning light was coming through the window in her bedroom, and her phone was buzzing with an incoming call. Her eyes flicked to the digital clock on her nightstand—she was someone who still had a digital clock, not wanting to tap her phone every time she wanted to know the time. It was just before six. When she glanced at her phone, Jay’s name flashed on the screen. Her heart started pounding at the sight of it.
“Is the baby here?” she asked immediately.
It was silent for a moment, and she looked at the screen to see if the call had dropped. He was still there, though, the seconds of the call ticking by.
“Jay?” she asked.
She heard the sound of a pained animal, and it took her a second to realize it was him.
“Sash,” he said.
His voice was high pitched, screechy, the voice of someone crying. Sasha felt a bolt of adrenaline through her body, readying her for whatever was coming.
