something just like this

ALERIE There is countless experience to pull from when it comes to giving birth; each one varying in some degree from the rest. Yet, nothing is known of the experiences of those being born. The young have no memories of that time, no knowledge of their existence prior to life outside of their mothers or what they went through simply being born. One can imagine, perhaps, that the act is jarring; a sudden, unwanted change. One can imagine something more simple and tender - the squeezing of a contraction more akin to a hugging sensation than a painful experience. Both would be equally right and wrong in their assumptions; simple estimations of something without concrete facts. What is known and what is consistent, however, is change. Life itself proceeds on the basis of change. It is a necessity, an essential part of life that most often strikes when things grow stagnant. As a foal grows in the womb, she reaches a point where change simply ceases to exist. Her development hits a metaphorical glass ceiling but the only way to break past that invisible barrier is birth; and so begin the contractions, a potentially painful transition to more change. Alerie's story begins much the same as many others. Her conception was hardly unique; in fact, she is nothing if not ordinary. Being born is no simple feat, no small change but every bit of it is out of her control. The contractions squeeze on her, forcing her nose first into the birthing canal. Time, at this particular moment, seems to merely stand still. She does not know how long the transition takes. She isn't really aware of anything until her small body slides out onto the hard floor of the cavern. Perhaps the most jarring is the sudden weight and temperature change. Everything suddenly feels heavy. It takes effort to hold her head up and even then she's hardly steady. The filly quivers where she landed, fresh and unscathed; new life brought into this strange place. Alerie is silent, eyelids heavy and nostrils flaring; half-heartedly fighting against sleep that almost but doesn't quite come. Mother's touch helps to jolt her awake, her tongue warm against the cooling dampness of the afterbirth. Yet Alerie makes no move to stand just yet, instead eyes of ocean and ice take in her surroundings; the vivid colors, the bright tones and deep shadows. It's so incredibly different from everything she's known before; so new that it's almost overwhelming. That she almost wants to just curl back up inside and never come out. But then she notices that there are others there. This isn't just a private party for two but instead a small family gathering. The dark green and white splashed one is calming, a soft, lazy summer breeze. The smaller one, though, the one painted in browns and golds - warm tones and lightning bolts - is a jolt of electricity to her young eyes. Both are equally appealing to the newborn filly but yet, neither of them can compare to mother. Her sea eyes, shiny green feathers, and constant flowery perfume are a cozy blanket on a dim and dreary day. Mother is everything. one could not pluck a flower without troubling a star

image || coding

@Zoeya  @Alysannet's weird but whatever. xD Birthing posts are hard.