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MY FIRST WATER BABY A Novel-Inspired Fictional Story Chapter One Three days before the baby arrived, Elena Vale stood alone in the bedroom and listened to the water. The portable birthing pool sat in the center of the room, steaming gently beneath the soft morning light. Someone had placed candles along the windowsill. Beside them stood a small video camera on a tripod, its lens pointed toward the pool. Everything was ready. At least, that was what Elena kept telling herself. Her midwife was on call. Her husband, Evan, had checked the supplies twice. Her mother had called that morning to ask whether she needed anything. Even the weather seemed cooperative. Outside, a warm spring breeze moved through the trees, carrying the scent of rain. Elena rested both hands on her enormous belly. “Whenever you're ready,” she whispered. The baby moved. A slow roll beneath her ribs. Elena smiled. “I suppose that means you're listening.” She walked to the window. For nine months she had imagined this moment. She had imagined the water. She had imagined the first cry. She had imagined Evan beside her. She had imagined the instant when the child who had lived inside her would suddenly become someone she could hold. But there was one thing she hadn't imagined. How little control she would actually have. She had spent months preparing for birth. She had read books, studied breathing techniques, spoken with midwives, watched films, practiced relaxation, and learned everything she could about the mysterious process taking place inside her body. Yet the closer the moment came, the more she understood that preparation was not the same thing as control. Birth had its own timetable. So did babies. And somewhere inside her, a tiny person already knew when it was time. Elena looked at the pool again. Three days. Maybe. Or perhaps three minutes. She laughed softly. “That's the trouble with babies.” They never read the schedule.