#it's so cool seeing how many grains are actually grown local here. until like two years ago i had no idea rice was grown in MD

[supercantaloupe]

oh oh and the local grains stand was back today after a hiatus and they had my favorite brown sticky rice again!

[trey-ff]

ONE.

SONYA

“Thank you.” I replied to the manager before hanging up the phone. I had just ordered something to eat from one of my favorite take-out restaurants, Sorrento. Though I was nine-months into my pregnancy, the cravings that I had developed months prior never seemed to cease, no matter how hard I tried to integrate healthier options into my diet for me and my unborn son’s sake. Losing this baby-weight would be a son-of-a-bitch.

Padding towards the front-door with a hand caressing my baby-bump, I peered out of the window at nothing in particular. The sun had set and considering I lived twenty minutes from Las Vegas, things were seemingly quiet in my neighborhood for a Saturday night. Then again, there was never that much commotion anyway.

Contrary to what most people perceived Nevada to be, solely based on the outlook that Vegas gave it, it was actually not at all like that. I mean, there were casinos and 24-hour attractions scattered everywhere, but everyday was not some big, never-ending party. At least, not to the people living there.

Just like every other place, we had careers, though, they mostly revolved around the hospitality scene provided in bars, casinos, and restaurants. While there were people who worked for these establishments, there were also people who owned them, as entrepreneurship was another big thing in Vegas. A smart individual knew that in order to be set for life in Vegas, you had to reap the benefits of the tourists, attractions, and nightlife. Essentially, everyone’s income was generated by the tourism because you would never catch a local down on the Strip, unless we were working or entertaining our out-of-town pals.

We had homes, too. Most locals that I knew worked in California, but lived in Vegas, or vice versa. I, on the other hand, both lived and worked in Vegas. Well, as of late, I had been out of a job due to my abrupt pregnancy, but before then, I worked three jobs, all circling hospitality and leisure. I worked as a bartender at a restaurant, a blackjack dealer at a casino, and a server at a nightclub. Yup, I rotated through all of these shifts, seven nights out of the week.

If someone had told me five years ago that I would be doing that shit, I would have laughed in their face. There was no way that a sheltered girl from San Diego who had dreams of becoming an interior designer and had even went to college for it, would throw away her aspirations to be consumed by Sin City.

But, shit happens.

I had first moved to Vegas from California when I was twenty-two years old; that was four years ago. The scene was way out of my comfort-zone, but that was the experience that I was aiming for. I needed an escape from what I was going through at the time and more than anything, I wanted independence. I felt that I had something to prove to my mother and older sister, who had coddled me all my life. I was an adult and could make adult decisions; I didn’t need them.

As one could imagine, being in Vegas by my lonesome at such a young, inexperienced age left me vulnerable to many things. There were times where I had gotten drunk out of my mind, partied until the crack of dawn, even tried drugs; all things that anyone who truly knew me, wouldn’t know me to do. In two years time, Vegas had swallowed me whole and I was spiraling out of control, mostly due in part to the fact that I was hanging with the wrong crowd of people. People who didn’t really want the best for me, people who my father had once warned me about. That was until, Ebony, my sister, turned her concerned visits into a permanent stay.

Growing up, all we ever had was each other so, while our friends and family thought it was insane of her to uproot from her lifestyle just to follow me to Vegas, I was the least bit surprised. She was loyalty personified; she would give up life and limb for me. She was always quite protective of me and when it had been declared that I had been too digested by my newfound life, she felt obligated to be with me and to be honest, I loved having her so close. It provided me with a sense of security and familiarity.

Just as I began slipping into a senseless daydream, my phone was blaring with a phone-call from none other than Ebony. While returning to the living-room, I answered the call.

“Hey, Ebs.” I grinned while carefully sitting down on the cushiony sofa. Grabbing the remote-control, I changed the channel to HGTV, my absolute favorite network. Anything that revolved home design and renovation fascinated me to no ends.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” she asked.

“Watching TV.”

“How are you feeling? You told Mom you were in pain?”

“Just a little,” I admitted, “I don’t know… I’ve been feeling a bit uncomfortable, like, I’m getting cramps or something. I took some Tylenol, but it didn’t really do anything so, I just figured I needed to eat.”

“That’s usually how it feels when you’re beginning labor, Sonya.” she said warningly as I only kissed my teeth. The pain wasn’t as bad as women claimed labor to be; it felt like menstrual cramps, if anything. So, that’s why I took it with a grain of salt.

“I doubt it’s that, I’m not in that much pain. It’s been going on since noon so, if it was labor related, wouldn’t I be in more pain? I told Dr. Eadon and she said that since it’s not too bad, it’s probably just my uterus contracting, which is normal. She said to lower the aggravation, take some Tylenol and if it intensifies, have one of you take me to the hospital.”

“Okay,” she said unconvincingly, “but, you’re good?”

“I’m alright.”

“On a scale of 1-10?”

“A solid seven. I’m not perfectly good, but I’m alright. Now that you got me thinking about it, the pain is starting to bother me.” I admitted. My tolerance of pain was relatively low; I could take a gang of pain, both physically and emotionally, before I finally snapped.

“Okay, let’s change the subject, then. Did you go out today?” she pondered, which made me kiss my teeth because she already knew the answer.

“Now, you know I don’t go anywhere.” I replied. I had grown used to solitude over the last growing months, only ever really contacting anyone over the phone and occasionally going out when pressured enough, mainly by my sister and best-friends. And lately, I had been turning down any and every attempt to hang out. Given the circumstances of my predicament, I preferred to be alone. That’s how it was going to be anyway, I had better gotten used to it.

“Well, I thought maybe you’d have a change of heart with the baby on the way and all. The gang told me that they were trying to throw a baby-shower for you, but you said no.” she said, referring to my best-friends, Ashley, Sasha, Deidra, and Noah.

“Yeah, I didn’t really want one. I wasn’t in the mood for being around people and stuff, you know?”

“I know.” she responded, sounding as if she wanted to add more to the conversation. To avoid her incessant nagging about my newfound introverted personality, I changed the direction of the conversation.

“So, what’re you guys doing?” I asked.

“Pretty much the same thing as you. Mom’s making dinner--it’s spaghetti, you’re not missing out. And, I’m watching TV with the kids.” she said, referring to her five-year old twins, Dedrick and Brooke.

Because I was due any day soon, my mother had taken a leave of absence from her job as a dentist and drove to Vegas to be with us. While I had more than enough space at my home to let her stay with me, I deemed it best that she stay with Ebony and her family, despite her feeling otherwise. It was just that my mother could get overbearing sometimes and I didn’t need that kind of energy suffocating me at such a crucial stage in my pregnancy. That, and I valued my personal space.

“That’s cool. Where’s Aaron?” I pondered, speaking of her husband.

“He’s still at work. Ever since he decided to start doing overtime, he doesn’t get in until about three in the morning.” she explained. Aaron worked in the pharmaceutical trade; he made the pills and liquid solutions that physicians prescribed to their patients.

“That must be stressful on you both, huh?”

“Yeah, it sucks that he’s never home and whenever he is, he’s always sleeping. Then, on top of that, I work, too. It’s just… hectic, but I’m hoping we’ll pull through. It’s an adjustment for everybody.” she explained as I nodded understandably. As long as he was providing for his family and coming home to her, that was all that truly mattered.

“See, and that positive outlook is the exact reason why it will work out for you guys.” I encouraged, hearing her small giggle.

“Thanks, sis. So,” she dragged, indicating that she was about to switch topics, “what’s been going on with you and your life?”

“Nothing really. Just anticipating the big day for when my angel gets here.” I smiled, caressing my protruding baby-bump as I did a million times a day. This would be my first child and though the beginning steps into motherhood hadn’t been the best, I was still excited to be a mother.

“Does this angel have a name yet?”

“Nope. I can’t think of one.” I replied as if it were no big deal, though, I knew she felt the exact opposite. Every time we spoke about it, she declared the importance of having a name prepared before his arrival.

“So, you’re telling me that you still haven’t figured out a name? He’ll be here any day now, Sonya.” she warned as I simply shrugged my shoulders.

“Mom said the name will come when the time’s right. The time just hasn’t been right, I guess.” I replied, gliding my finger across the pad of my purple HP laptop.

“Just don’t choose anything crazy, trying to be unique and all. This girl at my job named her daughter Neon. Neon, for God’s sake.” she complained, earning my laughter.

“People have sentiment behind every name, Ebony. Even though you don’t like it, I’m sure it meant something to her and the baby’s father.” I reasoned, but she wasn’t hearing it.

“There ain’t nothing you can say to defend a crazy-ass name like that. Neon,” she mocked, “I say you name him after Daddy. Keep the legacy alive. I would do that if me and Aaron had another.”

“No, I don’t really like the idea of naming someone after someone else. They always feel that they have to live up to those same expectations. Daddy was an Air Force pilot. He flew all these important missions and broke bread with the best of them. Too much pressure,” I explained, “plus, I would look at him or call his name and start thinking about Daddy every time. It would probably make me cry and think about the what-ifs, you know? And, how would I explain that to my son?”

Our father, Gregory Duncan, was killed in a car-accident four years prior. Some frat-boy piece of shit was driving while drunk and slammed right into him. The impact of the T-bone crash was so strong that despite the security of a seatbelt, his body violently jerked to the left and caused him to bang his head against the side window, instantly leading to his death. The young man responsible was apprehended and ordered to serve six years, though, I didn’t find that to be remotely close to what he deserved. Either way, giving that man his just-desserts wouldn’t have really mended the loss of my father.

He was still gone and severely missed.

“Now that you put it that way, it isn’t such a good idea,” she agreed before moving her mouth away from the receiver, “Dedrick and Brooke! If ya’ll don’t go sit down somewhere, I know something.”

Ebony’s threat forced them to instantly halt their loud chatter, making me giggle. She was the sweetest, most lax mother in the world until they started misbehaving. She was the perfect balance and honestly, the only one that I admired, aside from our mother, when it came to being a good parent.

“Quit yelling at my babies.”

“If your babies would learn to listen, I wouldn’t have to yell. They’re so hardheaded. Shoot.” she chuckled as my laughter continued.

“They’re just being kids,” I defended them before huffing, “I am so hungry.”

“What’re you eating tonight?”

“Well, I just ordered a pizza not too long before I started ordering the baby some clothes. It should be here shortly… I hope.”

“From Sorrento?” she asked knowingly. This wasn’t the first time that I had ordered from there throughout my pregnancy.

“You know it,” I chuckled once she kissed her teeth at my choice, “leave me alone, I had a craving.”

“Don’t cravings only last in, like, the first and early second trimester?” she pondered.

“Listen, I’m milking this thing until the moment this boy pops out.” I snickered, earning her laughter as well. Pulling the phone away from my ear once it beeped, I noticed an unfamiliar number. Shrugging it off, I returned to my conversation with my sister.

“Well, good luck with losing all that baby-weight. And, why are you ordering more things for the baby? You already have a boatload of shit and I told you I would give you Dedrick’s old clothes.”

“I know, I know. I haven’t ordered anything yet. I’ve just been putting things in the cart,” I mumbled while being redirected to the online shopping-cart, “and, thank God you said something. This crap came up to almost two-hundred dollars. Babies are expensive.”

“See? Don’t make the same mistake that I did with these two. All they gon’ do is grow out of the stuff and all it’s good for after that is taking up closet space. Which is exactly why it’s going to you.” she giggled as I closed the web-browser.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Wait,” I mumbled, kissing my teeth when the same unknown caller appeared on my screen, “I have no idea who this is that keeps calling.”

“Dun, dun, dun! Sounds like something straight out of a scary movie. Answer it.” Ebony snickered once I placed the phone back against my ear.

“Don’t even scare me like that,” I muttered, not at all a fan of horror movies, “the number isn’t blocked and it’s a local. Probably just a wrong number or something.”

“Or a killer.”

“Ebony,” I warned, breaking into laughter once she did likewise, “you’re the worst person alive, I swear.”

“Oh, you’ve encountered worse than me, sweetheart. Carter?” she said, forcing my whole mood to switch from good to bad in the snap of a finger.

“Why would you bring him up?” I asked, furrowing my brow. She knew how the topic of my son’s sperm-donor tended to make me feel and ever so carelessly, she spoke of him.

“Sonya, don’t trip. I wasn’t trying to offend. It was just bad transitioning on my part. I wanted to talk about him, though.” she explained.

“What about him?”

“Have you spoken to him lately? Mom told me about Monica’s assistance so, I was just curious to know if he knew about it, too.” she said, referring to Carter’s mother, who had been purchasing things for her grandson.

After things had gone downhill between Carter and I on account of him abandoning us, I assumed that Monica would follow suit and cease contact with me, too. However, out of undeserved guilt stemming from her son’s cowardice, she stuck around and took on the duties that should have belonged to Carter. Monica was constantly trying to compensate for his shortcomings and wrongdoings by handling the financial matters surrounding the baby. She figured that it was the bare minimum of what she could do.

While I was incredibly grateful for her assistance, I always pleaded for her to keep her money. I wasn’t a charity-case; I had the means and the support to ensure that my son had a stable and secure upbringing. Despite my pleading, she insisted that though her son neglected his role as an active father, she wasn’t going to neglect her role as an active grandmother. She genuinely wanted to be involved and I couldn’t find it in my heart to deny her that opportunity, though, I really wanted no linkage to Carter and his clan.

“She told him that she’s been helping me with the baby and he insisted that she stops. He doesn’t want any attachment to me… or the baby. He thinks that lousy two-thousand dollars that he left me would be more than enough. If any money is needed, it’ll come from him when he feels that I need it, not when I feel that I need it. He just thinks I’m using her for perks and to stay close to him.” I chuckled bitterly.

Being close to Carter was the furthest thing on my mind. It was astounding to me that someone who had once meant the world and then-some to me, could become someone that I strongly disliked, or hated even.

There was a moment in time when Carter and I were inseparable, where I imagined him being the man that I was going to marry. Despite our two-year relationship, long-term commitment was unattainable under our circumstances. My pregnancy came as a surprise for the both of us, though, we both should have been prepared for it with how careless we had become with sex. However, Carter felt ambushed, that I had trapped him. As offended as I was by this accusation, I figured that was just his defense-mechanism. He was scared and lashing out; that’s what I kept telling myself.

I expected that feeling to be temporary, but he was hellbent on believing that I had purposely wound up pregnant and wanted no parts. That was when I started believing that he wasn’t scared; he strongly felt that way and I was just in-denial.

Carter was born into money; his father owned one of the most popular casinos in Vegas, the Emerald League. Around the time of my pregnancy, his father had promised him ownership of the casino once he retired from the business. Carter had already had a pretty high-up position as the manager, but being the CEO was obviously a better fit. Knowing of this eventual monetary gain, women around Vegas threw themselves at him and everyone wanted to be his friend.

Carter was shit under pressure and his father did nothing to mend his worries, either. He constantly filled his head with nonsense about blood-sucking leeches and how it was always the ones closest to you. He wanted to be sure that his lucrative business was left in good hands and that his son didn’t plow through his earnings, or make any dumb decisions that would cause the company their money, or reputation. While that was understandable, it made Carter a lot more paranoid and apprehensive when it came to people’s intentions, including mine.

In the past, me not wanting him for his possessions had set me apart from the others. Now, I was nothing more than one of those leeches that he spoke of. So, in turn for my news on his step into fatherhood, he had his father fire me from the Emerald League, where we had met and where I had worked as a blackjack dealer for three years. To prevent discriminatory and personal accusations from me, Mr. Carson Cage, his father, simply stated that I wasn’t working up to my fullest potential and he had to do what was best for the betterment of the company. Bullshit.

Since then, Carter had tossed me two-thousand dollars and asked that I exit his life with no hard-feelings. He had only requested that I kept things amicable because he didn’t want me to cause him any drama that he knew without a doubt would boil over into his professional life. And, even though I should have wreaked havoc on his ass and dragged his name through the mud, I knew that in hindsight, I would be better off without him. After all, him not being around for his son was his loss, not ours. We were good regardless.

“Ugh, he’s such an asshole. He really makes me sick.” she expressed with distaste.

“You and me both, champ,” I sighed once I heard a knock at the front-door, “I think that’s my food. Call you tomorrow?”

“Is it because I brought him up? ‘Cause I really didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s just ‘cause my food’s here. I’m about to eat and go to sleep. I’m not mad at you.” I assured her with a smile, hearing her sigh of relief. She hated when we were at odds.

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I replied lightly, still feeling some kind of way after the discussion surrounding my ex-boyfriend. I wasn’t upset with Ebony for bringing him up; I thought about him regardless. I just hated that my son would grow up without having a father because his father chose to be absent. As much as I claimed that we were fine without him, it was going to be hard raising a fatherless child.

Hanging up the phone, I checked the time on the screen, realizing that my phone-call with Ebony had almost worked in the delivery-man’s favor. He was extremely late with my food.

Arriving to the front-door, I unlocked and opened it to be greeted by a man donned in the pizza company’s attire of a black cap, a black collared shirt with the logo in the left-hand corner, and a pair of jeans. I had never noticed him before, but that wasn’t of importance to me at the moment. I was irritated with everything.

“I ordered this pizza over forty minutes ago. You’re only ten minutes away. You better not even expect a tip.” I fussed, angrily pouting my lips. He snickered and stepped to the right, allowing me a view of his damaged vehicle.

“Well, someone rear-ended me on my way here. I tried callin’ to inform you of the delay, but you weren’t answerin’ the phone.” he explained. So that’s what that wrong number was. That made me feel like a complete idiot for unrightfully snapping on him.

Sighing deeply, I sent him apologetic eyes for being so rude without having any knowledge on his mishap.

“I’m so sorry. That was uncalled for.” I shyly apologized while signing the small receipt before we exchanged the items.

“Nah, nah, it’s cool. You’re pregnant, cranky, and hungry. I get it,” he chuckled, fanning his hand as he began his backpedal down the stone steps, “enjoy your food, though.”

“Wait! You deserve a tip. I know what I said, but it wasn’t your fault and I gave you unnecessary sass.” I giggled, giving him the one-minute finger before scurrying into the living-room for my purse. While rummaging through my bag for my wallet, I felt a popping sensation between my legs, forcing me to anxiously halt what I was doing. Then, a rivulet of water had made its way down my inner-thigh, confirming my suspicions.

My water broke.

“Oh no, oh no. Not right now.” I panted with fright, trying to keep my hysteria and anxiety to a minimum. I had rehearsed for this precise moment, but never for it to happen like this. Placing my palm against my pregnant belly, I blew out a shaky breath and bit down my bottom-lip to suppress the fear.

While taking slow, shallow breaths and contemplating on what my next move would be, the delivery-man reminded me of his presence when he had spoken up.

“Um, ma’am? You can just keep the tip ‘cause I got more deliveries--”

“Wait! Come here, I-I need your help!” I shouted desperately, embarrassed that this was happening at the wrong time.

“Yeah? Holy shit, ya’ water broke.” he said, stating the well-known once he entered the living-room, his face stained with pure shock and petrification. Nodding with a pained expression, I continued to caress my stomach, which was gradually beginning to ache due to the sudden onslaught of contractions and fear.

“I need you to call 911 and get an ambulance here, fast. He’s coming very soon.” I gritted as he nodded understandably and pulled out his cell-phone. Anxiously, he dialed the three-digit number and then, diverted his attention to me with a worried, yet controlled expression.

“Can you sit down?”

“No,” I mumbled, attempting to do so on my own, but failing miserably, “I need your help.”

Nodding, he balanced the phone in-between his ear and shoulder before assisting me to the floor, where my back was placed against the couch as a means of support. While assisting me, the operator answered the phone and he frantically explained the situation. I hated that I had to be so vulnerable, especially with a man that I didn’t know. But, I was desperate and scared out of my mind.

“Yeah, she’s about to give birth, like, right now… Okay, what’re the contractions lookin’ like?” he asked, now speaking to me. While continuing to pant, I thought of my response.

“Around three minutes.”

“She said three minutes… Yeah… Oh, God.” he replied and just by the expression on his face, I could tell that the operator informed him that he would probably have to deliver the baby. Oh, God was right.

HASSAN

To think today had started off as normal as any other.

I woke up, got ready, went out to breakfast with my girl before taking her to work, and then went to my first job, where I worked as a cook. When that shift ended, I was en route to my second job, where I delivered food for this little pizza-joint down on Rainbow Boulevard. I never expected to go from delivering a pizza, to possibly delivering a baby.

“Aight, it’s unlocked.” I assured the operator, who told me that she was sending an ambulance to the home, so I would need to have the door unlocked for the EMTs.

“Okay, great. Now, Hassan, I need you to get a bucket of water and as many towels as you can, okay? Can you do that?” she asked, being as calming as possible.

“Uh, I gotta ask her where all that stuff is,” I grumbled, heading back into the living-room where Sonya, who the operator had told me to learn the name of, was focusing on her breathing, “can you tell me where your towels are? And, a bucket?”

“The towels are upstairs, and a bucket is in one of the cabinets near the kitchen-sink.” she explained, earning a nod from me. Rushing up the steps by twos, I opened the closet that appeared to be a linen-closet and grabbed about four towels.

“Hassan, I need you to also find a shower-curtain. It’ll be easier to clean up afterwards.” the operator explained as I nodded. Going into the bathroom that was positioned to the right of the closest, I simply yanked down the available shower-curtain with all my might, the decorative hooks dropping onto the titles.

Running back downstairs, I checked on Sonya, who was resisting the urge to push, as the operator had directed for her to do. She seemed fine for the most part so, I tossed down the towels and ventured into the kitchen to get the bucket. While underneath the kitchen-sink, I noticed a box of latex-gloves and snatched a pair.

Adjusting the water until it was warm, I placed the medium-sized bucket under the faucet and watched as it filled to the brim, which took approximately one and a half minutes. My phone buzzed with an incoming call; it was my boss. Under any other circumstances, I would have answered, but that wasn’t the time. I knew my ass was fired anyhow.

“Where am I ‘sposed to put the shower-curtain?” I pondered, carefully picking up the bucket and walking back into the living-room. I sat it down at a reasonable distance from Sonya before picking up the shower-curtain.

“Beneath her legs so that if the baby has to come, it won’t leave a mess,” she said, “carefully do this. Remember, she’s in pain.”

“I know that,” I said underneath my breath, tossing the phone aside and kneeling down on the carpet with her, “aight, I gotta move you up a li’l bit so, we can put this shower-curtain under you. Hold onto me.”

Doing as I said, she tightly gripped my arm, probably breaking skin. Knowing that she was in that much pain scared the shit out of me; I was trying my best not to add anymore pain or stress to the situation by being as gentle as humanly possible.

“I really think he’s coming now… more than before. I feel his head.” she whispered, tightly clenching her bottom-lip in-between her teeth. Quickly, I placed two of the towels aside, before rolling up the other two and using them to prop up either of her thighs.

“Aight, I’ma need to… lift this,” I said, referring to her clothes, “I’on wanna make you uncomfortable so, if you want me to wait for them, I’ll--”

“It’s fine.” she assured, pinching her eyes shut as if it pained her to say that. Lifting up the hem to her black nightshirt that basically swept the floor, I mentally prepared myself for what I was about to see. And, what I saw wasn’t as bad as I imagined it to be. The only thing that left me traumatized was the fact that his head was in fact peeking, which meant that he was crowning and this birth was happening now.

Picking up the phone, I decided to inform the operator that as much as we were trying to avoid the delivery from happening at home, all the preparation would not be going down in vain. Li’l Man was coming.

“Aight, I need an ETA on the ambulance ‘cause the baby is crownin’… I can see his head. She can’t keep resistin’ to push.” I grumbled, knowing good and well that the operator heard her intensified panting, indicating that the moment had arrived before they did.

“The EMTs should be there within the next twenty-five to thirty minutes due to traffic, but since you’re saying she cannot wait any longer, you’ll have to do it,” she stated while I placed her on speaker-phone and slipped on the gloves, “wash your hands with the water that I told you to get.”

“I’m wearin’ gloves,” I grumbled, watching intently as Sonya slipped off her rings and tossed them aside, making me curious, “what you doin’?”

“I need this baby out. Even if that means I have to do it myself.” she gritted, no longer fighting back the tears that I expected to see way before, considering she had no opiates, or an epidural to assist with the pain.

“Nah, I gotchu’. Just trust me, aight?” I grumbled, watching her nod and move her hands aside. Pretty much ignoring the operator, but only for the sake of Sonya, I placed my hands on his head, while hers held her shirt out of view. Guiding as slowly and carefully as possible, I encouraged for Sonya to push because I didn’t want to harm her or the baby by pulling.

“I can only do it during my contractions,” she rushed out in one breath, “alright… now.”

After getting her words out through a painful grit, she pushed as well as she could, making some progress. With the operator coaching the both us, she was able to get his head out--which was the hardest part--within fifteen minutes, However, I noticed the umbilical-cord was around his neck, forcing my breath to hitch up. Oh, hell no.

“T-the cord is wrapped around his neck. What should I do?” I asked the operator, shakiness evident in my tone. I was trying to remain calm for Sonya; if I stayed calm, she would had been more likely to. But, I couldn’t even front. This had to be the most nerve-racking shit that I had ever endured in my whole life.

“Just loop your finger underneath it, and gently loosen it until you can get his head out.” she coached. There was blood and other pregnancy potions all over the place; thank God for that damn shower-curtain. Again, the sight and the situation was stressful, but I was trying my best to stay leveled for her.

“Okay, you got it,” Sonya breathed after intently watching me hold his head up, and remove the cord, “I need to push again.”

“Aight.” I grumbled, bringing both hands together underneath his head so that I could catch him when she pushed the rest of his body out. Aside from light grunts and whimpering, she was very collected and silent while she pushed. I thanked God for that because all that obnoxious screaming and hollering would have made it more difficult for the both of us.

“That was a good push. He’s almost out, Sonya. You can do it.” I encouraged. When she felt his shoulders finally slip out, she reached down, moved my hands aside, and carefully pulled the rest of his little body out in one swing. The umbilical-cord was still attached to him as she brought him up to her chest and held him close while his cries rang off like a siren. I grabbed the spare towels and wrapped them around his back, ensuring that he stayed as warm as possible.

“He’s here,” I informed the operator through a breath of relief, “can you hear ‘em?”

“Yes, I hear him. That’s good, he’s breathing. Tell Sonya to wipe away any amniotic-fluid on his eyes and nose to help him further breathe.” she said. Considering she was on speaker-phone, Sonya followed her orders on her own. After doing so, she gingerly guided her hand up and down his back.

“What do we do about the umbilical-cord?” I asked, removing the stained gloves and tossing them on an empty spot on the shower-curtain. Falling back from my kneeled position, I grabbed the phone.

“Nothing. The EMTs have informed me that they’re on your street. They’ll be there to sterilely cut the cord. Just stay with them.” she explained as I nodded and looked over to Sonya, who was already staring at me.

“Thank you so much. I could never repay you for this.” she said genuinely, briefly tearing her watery eyes from me to stare lovingly at her newborn son.

“Well, you could always start by givin’ me that tip.” I joked, earning a round of soft giggles from her as I laughed, too. Not even a moment later, the EMTs were barreling into the house to find us seated on the living-room floor. I stood up and stepped aside so that they could tend to Sonya and her son.

While two EMTs crouched down to assist them, one pulled me aside and asked questions concerning the home-birth before showering me in the ultimate praise for my actions. Though I valued the appreciation that they were showing, I was no hero. I was just at the right place, at the right time.

[sherristockman]

What to Know Before Growing Broccoli Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola With each satisfying crunch, broccoli delivers great-tasting nutrition and a slew of health-promoting benefits. It is low in calories and rich in vitamins and minerals. Broccoli also contains fiber, which is vital to your digestive health. As one of the cruciferous vegetables, broccoli is a close relative of Brussel sprouts, cabbage and cauliflower. Broccoli has twice the vitamin C of an orange and nearly as much calcium as whole milk, with a better rate of absorption. It’s also a good source of vitamins A and K. It contains several B vitamins, as well as iron, magnesium, potassium, selenium and zinc. Furthermore, broccoli is an excellent source of phytonutrient glucosinolates, flavonoids and other health-boosting antioxidant and anti-cancer compounds. According to Mother Earth News,1 “Broccoli is a nutritional superfood that will strengthen your immune system, help maintain strong bones, and help protect you from cancer and heart disease.” Learn more about why broccoli is good for you in the video above. While broccoli requires certain growing conditions to thrive, it is a great choice for a home vegetable garden. Here’s what you need to know to successfully grow broccoli. Eight Steps to Successfully Cultivate Broccoli While you may be able to buy broccoli seedlings from a local nursery, I recommend starting your own plants from organic seeds. It’s easy to do, and you will enjoy the process of seeing tiny seeds transformed into hearty plants. In my opinion, nothing tastes better than homegrown vegetables! Rodale’s Organic Life2 provides the following tips, which will enable you to successfully cultivate broccoli in your garden or on your patio. Directions: Start by sowing broccoli seeds indoors seven to nine weeks before the date of the last expected frost After germination, which is usually four to five days, maintain your plants under lights or place them in a sunny area with a temperature of 60 to 65 degrees F (16 to 18 degrees C) Keep the soil moist but not wet To avoid premature heading, seedlings must be about 6 inches, or 15.24 centimeters (cm) tall, with two to four true leaves, before they can be transplanted into your garden You must harden the plants for at least one week prior to transplanting When transplanting the broccoli seedlings into your garden, be sure to set the plants 1 to 2 inches (2.54 to 5.08 cm) deeper in the garden than they grew in the indoor containers Space them 1 to 2 feet (30 to 60 cm) apart in rows that are roughly 2 to 3 feet (60 to 90 cm) apart; proper spacing is important since crowding will result in smaller heads Gently pat the soil around each plant Ideal Growing Conditions for Broccoli As you make plans to grow your own broccoli, Mother Earth News presents four important aspects that must be considered to create the ideal growing conditions.3 Season: Broccoli is a cool weather crop, so you'll achieve the best results by growing it in spring or fall. Cool days and nights are essential once broccoli flower heads begin to form. Broccoli grows best when soil temperatures range between 60 to 70 F (16 to 21 C). Soil: Broccoli seedlings will thrive when they are planted in compost-rich, well-drained soil. A soil pH between 6.0 to 7.0 is optimal. If using an existing garden bed, be sure to loosen up the top layer of soil, mixing in about 1 inch of mature compost prior to planting. Sun: Keep in mind that broccoli prefers full sun. If you live in an area prone to warmer temperatures, a little bit of shade will prevent your broccoli plants from going to seed, also known as bolting. Supplements: To give your broccoli plants an added boost, you may consider supplementing your soil with a high-nitrogen, organic fertilizer like alfalfa meal. If you have access to composted poultry manure, that also works well. Water the soil thoroughly before transplanting seedlings. Additional Considerations to Ensure a Bountiful Broccoli Crop When it comes to cultivating broccoli, Rodale’s Organic Life presents a few additional considerations that will help ensure your success in realizing a bountiful broccoli harvest:4 ✓ Maintain the garden bed free of weeds and keep the soil loose ✓ When daytime temperatures exceed 75 F (24 C), add a thick layer of organic mulch to conserve moisture and cool the soil ✓ Broccoli must be well watered: Plan to add 1 to 1.5 inches (about 2.5 to 4 cm) of water a week ✓ During dry spells, soak the plants extra well, as a lack of water will result in tough stems ✓ During unseasonably cool weather, you may want to protect your broccoli plants with cloches or row covers ✓ For a spring crop, fast-maturing varieties like Packman are an excellent choice, whereas a slow-maturing variety like Marathon works great in winter in areas where the ground does not freeze Tips for Preventing Broccoli Pests While the least affected of all cabbage-family plants, broccoli can be vulnerable to pests.5 Chief among the pests are leaf-eating caterpillars, army worms, cabbageworms and cabbage loopers. Fall crops tend to have fewer problems with these pests than spring ones. Other potential pests include aphids, flea beetles, grasshoppers, harlequin bugs, mites and slugs. The best way to deter pests is to use row covers. If insect involvement is light, you may be able to get by with inspecting the plants regularly and removing any offending pests by hand. Cabbage-root maggots, which are fly larvae about the size of a grain of rice, like to feed on broccoli roots. While you can easily spot damage by this pest, their presence is generally only noted by the sudden collapse of your plants. If you’ve had experience with this pest in the past, your best strategy going forward is to plant your seedlings deeply and press the soil firmly around each stem. You can also prevent adult cabbage-worm maggots from laying their eggs by placing a square of window screen or a lightweight cloth around each broccoli plant. Important Notes on Harvesting Broccoli When your plants reach maturity, harvest broccoli heads while the beads in most of the crown are still tight. It’s normal to see a slight loosening of florets around the edges. You definitely want to harvest before the florets begin to open and turn yellow. It’s best to cut just below the point where the stems begin to separate. Mother Earth News suggests you cut the stems at an angle to prevent water from pooling inside the stem, where it potentially will cause rot.6 After harvesting the main head, tender side shoots should continue to form along the lower stalk. Continue watering the plant and cutting it, and broccoli will keep producing until the weather turns too hot or too cold. Maintain harvested broccoli in the refrigerator, where it will last for up to two weeks if stored unwashed. To ensure quality, it is best to steam-blanch broccoli before freezing it. Prior to cooking, you can drive out hidden cabbageworms and cabbage loopers by soaking the broccoli for about 15 minutes in warm water with a little vinegar added.7 If all goes well, you can expect to achieve a yield of 1 pound of broccoli per foot, assuming plants are spaced about 1.5 feet (46 cm) apart.8 That said, three to four plants per person will yield sufficient broccoli for fresh summer eating. If you plan to freeze some of your harvest for later consumption, plan on planting nine to 12 plants per person. Types of Broccoli You Can Try The main type of broccoli, featuring the familiar domed head comprising numerous clusters of florets, has a given name of Calabrese, belying broccoli’s esteem to the Italians. It is, however, simply referred to as “broccoli.” Other broccoli types include:9 Sprouting varieties: bushier plants producing numerous small heads that do best in mild-winter climates when grown from fall to spring Romanesco varieties: large plants requiring plenty of space that produce elegantly-swirled heads comprised of symmetrically-pointed spirals Broccoli raab: characterized by fast-growing, immature flower buds that boast a stronger flavor than regular broccoli; popular in Asian and Italian cooking Broccoli Sprouts: A Faster Route to Broccoli’s Many Nutritional Benefits If you don’t have the time or interest to grow broccoli plants, you might want to consider broccoli sprouts. Broccoli sprouts are a nutrient-dense superfood that can be easily cultivated in a glass jar on your kitchen counter. Personally, I grow my sprouts in trays. When grown in soil, you can harvest your sprouts in about a week. I recommend you use organic seeds. As a great addition to salads, smoothies or vegetable juice, broccoli sprouts can radically improve your overall nutrition. They enable your body to extract more vitamins, minerals, amino acids and essential fats from the rest of your diet. Broccoli sprouts are an excellent alternative particularly if you don't like the smell or taste of broccoli. Fresh broccoli sprouts are far more potent than whole broccoli, allowing you to eat far less in terms of quantity. A study published by the U.S. National Academy of Sciences10 revealed that three-day-old broccoli sprouts consistently contain anywhere from 10 to 100 times the amount of glucoraphanin — a chemoprotective compound found in mature broccoli. How to Prepare Broccoli Ideally, mature broccoli should not be eaten raw. If you prefer raw food, you’d be better off eating raw broccoli sprouts instead of mature broccoli, as they’re a far more potent source of sulforaphane.11,12,13 If you’re partial to mature broccoli, you can maximize the sulforaphane content by preparing it properly, and combining it with specific foods. Eating broccoli raw will actually only give you about 12 percent of the total sulforaphane content theoretically available. Research14 shows steaming mature broccoli spears for three to four minutes will increase the available sulforaphane content by eliminating epithiospecifier protein — a heat-sensitive sulfur-grabbing protein that inactivates sulforaphane — while still retaining the enzyme myrosinase, which converts glucoraphanin to sulforaphane. The latter is important, because without myrosinase, you cannot get absorb the sulforaphane. Do not steam the broccoli for more than five minutes, however, as beyond that point, you start losing valuable compounds. If you want to microwave your broccoli, be sure not go past the one-minute mark, as this will destroy a majority of the myrosinase needed for sulforaphane absorption. If you opt for boiling, blanch it in boiling water for no more than 20 to 30 seconds, then immerse it in cold water to stop the cooking process. Also, be sure to use raw, freshly harvested broccoli whenever possible. Frozen broccoli has diminished ability to produce sulforaphane as myrosinase15 is quickly destroyed during the blanching process.16 Broccoli can also lose 80 percent of its glucoraphanin — the precursor of sulforaphane — in the first 10 days after harvest. To increase sulforaphane content even further, eat it with a myrosinase-containing food17 such as mustard seed, daikon radishes, wasabi, arugula or coleslaw. A 2013 study18 that focused on mustard seed — which is said to contain a particularly resilient form of myrosinase — confirmed that mustard seed can boost sulforaphane formation even in boiled broccoli. Adding a myrosinase-rich food is particularly important if you eat the broccoli raw, or use frozen broccoli.