Every Friday writers from around the world contribute 100 word stories prompted by a photograph supplied by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to Friday Fictioneers. Everyone is welcome to contribute and we love comments on our stories.
Her tiny hand flexes and brushes against my finger, and she grasps it instinctively for the first time. Her palm is still damp with vernix.
Just moments before she had been dragged by forceps from the warm intimacy of my womb into a raw startling world, and I passed through the passage from girl to motherhood.
I look down at her swollen closed eyes, the red marks on either side of her skull and her fingers curled desperately around mine. And my throat swells with such fierce love, and a responsibility so heavy, I can hardly breathe.