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Emunah Short Stories Book 7

Lydia's 12 Christmases.

Dive into the heartwarming and heart-wrenching journey of Lydia through "Lydia's 12 Christmases" by Janice Wee. This poignant tale spans from the joyous chaos of her birth on a snowy Christmas Day, through the tender years of childhood, into the complexities of teenage love, and beyond into a world transformed by unimaginable events.

Launches 1 December 2024.
Preorder Lydia's 12 Christmases now.

Lydia's 12 Christmases

Janice Wee

Barnes and Noble Kobo Smashwords Fable Tolino Everand
Also available on Apple, Overdrive, Baker & Taylor, D2D Print, Odilo, BorrowBox, Gardners

One - Denver : Christmas Baby

Lydia hated Christmas. It clashed with her birthday.

It was five past eleven, the night before Christmas. Fairy lights and glowing candles lit the hall, as Christmas carols played in the background.

The kids were with engaged in party games; Denver’s pregnant wife, Sally, snuggled under his arm. He felt her hard round belly. Their unborn child was moving to the music’s tempo, enjoying the party as much as they did.

“Honey,” Sally paled. “I think my water bag burst.”

Buzzing with joy Denver held her hand. “It’s a month too soon. Are you sure?”

“I’m like, ninety percent positive that baby wants to come out now,” she bit her lip, her fingers trembled.

“She’s an impatient one,” Denver kissed her cheek.
Turning to Fred, he announced. “Baby’s on the way.”

“Go,” his buddy and party host, waved them off. “Your boys can stay over with us tonight.”

Denver drove off, with Sally in the passenger seat. The nearest hospital was a full two hour’s drive away. Enough time to get her to the delivery room.

Sally face contorted with pain as she held her precious belly.
Denver recognised the signs from Sally’s past pregnancies.
Labour had begun.

Bang!

“Oh no.” Denver’s face turned ice-cold. “Not now!”

“What happened?” Sally panted, her face drained from colour as she clenched her teeth. Another wave of labour pain, from what he had read.

“We blew a tyre,” Denver pulled his hair. A bad habit he couldn’t kick when stressed.

There was no time to waste. They had to hitch a ride or get a cab.
There’s a bench on the sidewalk where she could rest while he got help.

“I’ll hitch a ride or hail a cab,” he helped her settle on the bench.

Cars whizzed past without stopping. More than a few cabs drove by, but all were occupied.

An empty cab approached with a green vacant sign.
His heart leaped with anticipation.

The driver locked eyes with him, then looked away. The green vacant signed turned an occupied red, dashing Denver’s hopes.

“Stop,” Denver chased after the empty cab like a dog chasing after cars. “Please,” he pleaded as the cab disappeared into the horizon.

It’s Christmas Eve.
Where is the Christmas Spirit?
Is Christmas nothing more than a season of self indulgent partying?

Denver couldn’t help ruminating.

“Sir,” an officer grabbed his arm. “You are under arrest for disturbing the peace.”

“Officer,” Denver stared at the policeman in disbelief. “My wife is in labour.”

“That’s what they all say,” the officer reached for his handcuffs.

“Stop!” Sally hugged her belly and hobbled over. “My husband and I need to get to the hospital before my baby pops out.”

She bent over, and hugged her belly. A pained moan escaped her lips. It broke Denver’s heart to see his wife in such agony.

“Please help us,” she cried. “My baby is coming.”

The officer shrugged. With an awkward glance, he released Denver. “You may go now.”

“I have to get to the hospital. Can you get us a ride?” Sally begged the policeman.

He turned around and looked at his own vehicle - a motorcycle. “I don’t think that would work.”

Denver closed his eyes.
“God, if you are real, please help us get a ride.”

When he opened his eyes, a taxi pulled over right in front of him.
A Christmas Miracle!

“Thanks anyway, Officer,” Denver nodded at the police.
“Dear, our ride’s waiting,” he grinned as he helped Sally into the taxi.

Sally was tense throughout the ride. She seemed to be in agony. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, trying to help her to relax and to ease the pain.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Make it stop,” she whispered as the cab stopped at the hospital’s taxi stand.

“Dear, we are here,” he whispered with all the tenderness in his heart. Carefully, he scooped his wife in his arms and carried her into the hospital.

“Hurry, she is in labour,” he told the staff. They put her in a wheelchair and wheeled her into the delivery ward.

By then, Sally was in her own world. A world Denver knew swirled with excruciating torment. From what she’d told him, he wondered at the strength of all mothers who survived the ordeal.

“Don’t push yet,” the midwife reminded Sally. “You’re not fully dilated.”

“Breathe dear,” Denver reminded his wife as he massaged her back.

The dulcet notes of the classic Christmas carol filled the room.


Silent Night, Holy Night.

Huff, huff,

All is

SCREAM!

Calm,

Sally released the urge to push by screaming her lungs out.

Huff, huff, SCREAM!

By breathing, he didn’t mean for her to scream.

Okay, she screamed when she was delivering Oliver.
She screamed just as much while in labour with Aaron.

That was the only way she could stop herself from pushing before the baby’s ready to come out, or so she explained.

Whatever her reason, Denver couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Doctor, please help my wife,” Denver panicked. It was not their first child. Or even their second.

Yet Denver was freaked out as when their eldest, Oliver was born.

Huff, huff, SCREAM!

“An epidural will ease the pain,” the doctor told him.

“Do it,” he replied, forgetting his wife’s terror of needles.

Big mistake.

That look of horror on her face when she saw the needle made him regret his impulsive decision.

“Relax. I’ll inject your spine and you won’t feel anything,” the doctor, tried to calm Sally.

“No!” She screamed, protesting with a good hard kick that missed the doctor by less than an inch.
Stunned, he dropped the syringe.

Huff, huff, SCREAM!

Another nurse approached her with a fresh syringe, only to receive a good hard kick from the flailing woman.

“I’m sorry,” the medical staff told Denver. “It’s too dangerous to give her the epidural.”

Yeah.
It’s too dangerous for them to come near her with that needle.

“Here, breathe this. It will take the edge off the pain,” the midwife gave her a mouthpiece.

Sally refused to breathe in the laughing gas. Instead she used the equipment the way she always did.

Huff, huff, SCREAM!
She screamed into the muzzle, using it to muffle her cries. That was considerate of her, though it meant she wasn’t using anything to ease the pain.

A doctor, needle-free, examined Sally.


“She’s fully dilated,” he announced.

“You may push now,” the midwife encouraged.

“Go for it,” Denver whispered into his wife’s ear.

Sally strained in effort, pushing in place of the screams. Her face contorted, as if she was trying to shit out a watermelon.

Finally, the baby’s head popped out, large, curious eyes taking in her surroundings before she was fully in this world. She had a head of pale curly hair. The adorable babe stared at him as she gurgled.

Denver’s heart welled up with love for his almost-born baby girl. They knew her gender ahead of time through the scans; a pink crib and cupboard of pretty dresses awaited their new daughter in the baby’s room.

“One last push,” the midwife urged Sally.

Sally strained, pushing with everything she had.
The rest of the baby’s body slid out.
Though her body’s sore and exhausted, the pain’s gone.

Sally’s terrified of the sight of blood. It didn’t surprise Denver when she shut her eyes, refusing to look until the blood had been cleaned away.

Denver chuckled at his Paradoxically Phobic wife. For a woman brave enough to give birth without pain relief, she was a coward when it came to needles and blood.

“Would you like to hold your baby?” The midwife offered the curious bundle swaddled in pink blankets to Sally and Denver.

Sally radiated joy and motherly pride when she accepted the bundle. Cradling the baby in her arms, she seemed to have forgotten the ordeal she had just gone through. “Little Lydia,” she laughed as she gazed into their baby’s adoring eyes.

“Happy Birthday Lydia,” Denver cooed as he kissed their tiny daughter’s forehead. “And Merry Christmas!”





Please also recommend the book to your local library

It will also be available on Overdrive, Gardners, Odilo and Baker & Taylor. The print version will be available through Ingram or D2D Print.

Title: Lydia's 12 Christmases

Series: Emunah Short Stories

Author: Janice Wee

Ebook ISBN: 9798227708984
Ebook price: $7 USD

Paperback book ISBN: 9798230251316
Paperback book price: $14.99 USD

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