The storm rumbled, and the thunder roared in the distance. I sat down, fixing my green dress. How long will the storm last? I wondered.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” Cindy’s shaky voice echoed in the cabin. My back was against the rough wood as I fidgeted, trying to sit comfortably on the hard floor. I rubbed my growling stomach. I haven’t eaten much in days. I’m bored out of my mind, exhausted, and I have a toddler to look after. This week couldn’t get any worse, right? My eyes wandered around. This cabin is horrible. There are tiny gaps in the floor, walls, and the roof is leaking water in. I’m just thankful the gaps aren’t big enough for Cindy to fall into them. It’s also freezing, but it’s better than being outside in the wet rain. The floor creaks as Cindy waddles around the room and plops down on the floor a few feet away from me. She begins to wail. I’m a horrible mother… Before I ran away from home with her in my arms, her hair was silky black, it was straight, and her eyes were closed as she dozed. It wasn’t raining when I initially ran away, but now I had been walking for a day in the wet rain, holding her in my arms, and now her hair is stringy, drenched from the rain. Her cheeks were a sweet, rosy colour, but now they were red, and her skin was pale; no doubt it’s from the cold (as her skin was previously fair and light). I looked straight at her watery ice blue eyes, a warm smile coming to my lips.

“Come here.” I ushered, waving my hand towards her. She waddled towards me, the floorboards creaking. The Cabin had one lit candle by the open window, and the curtain flowed as the wind howled. It was dim. Cindy approached me, rubbing her teary eyes before she plopped herself on my lap, placing her head on my chest. She looked up at me with her wide eyes as she put her thumb into her mouth to suck on. “What did I say earlier?” I asked. She paused, pondering for a moment before removing her thumb from her mouth and clinging to my wet dress.

“Fear not, for I am with you.” She suggested. I nodded.

“Who said that?”

“Isaiah, in the bible.” She replied. I nodded again, my arm stroking her hair soothingly.

“God is with you, remember that.” Cindy nodded, slowly shutting her eyes and curling up on my lap. With a small yawn, she closed her eyes, beginning to doze off I looked up at the ceiling, the spruce wood looked shaggy. My eyes closed for a moment as I remembered God’s words to me. When I was scared, my mother would quote Isaiah 41:10. Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. I sighed nervously. The truth is, I’m scared too.

…

The wind blew softly against my short brunette bob. My hair had dried, but now it was frizzy. I rubbed my eyes, looking down at my lap. I shivered, I was cold from last night. Where’s Cindy? I let out a grunt, as I put my hand on the floor, catching a splinter.

“Ow!” I shouted. I held my finger and stared for a little while, thankfully it didn’t look too deep. I sighed, and stood straight, again fixing my dress.

“Mommy?” Cindy whispered behind me. I turned around and looked at her soft face. Her cheeks had returned to their natural rosy colour, but her hair was a mess and so was her rose pink dress. I reached down to fix it, then I leaned back, peering with a smile at my work. Much better.

“Yes?” I asked.

“You okay?” She whispered. I nodded softly, my hair bobbing. When I left with my daughter Cindy, I was in a rush. I had no time to pack or plan, I just needed to go. She peered around the cabin a little more, curious as a four year old should be. The cabin was shabby, there was very little furniture. There was a small table and two chairs next to the door, however, no kitchen, or bathroom. Just a table, two chairs, and a lit candle by the window. The cabin was cramped, very cramped. The table, chairs, door and window (where the candle was) were about 4 feet from me. Shaking my head, and getting out my mind, I looked down at Cindy, finding her gazing up at me. “Mommy?” She paused, “What does ‘pre-ga-nant’ mean?”

“Where did you hear that word from?” I slowly sat back on the floor, pulling her onto my lap.

“When you and daddy were arguing..” She settled into my lap, growing quiet. Ah, of course. My lips thinned. I didn’t know she heard or even saw that argument. “He said he didn’t want you to be pre-ga-nant,” Her voice trailed as she tried to pronounce the word. I was tense. I whispered the words of Jeremiah 1:8. I am with you. I sighed, relaxing my body, opening my legs to sit comfortably. I began to stroke Cindy’s hair. She was patient, waiting for an answer.

“Well..” I began. “Pregnant means a woman is with a child.” I looked down at Cindy and she frowned.

“With a child?” She muttered.

“Yes.” I replied, she shook her head,

“Me?”

“No. Not you.” I pointed to my round stomach. “Here. You’re going to have a sibling.” I explained. She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes.

“I don’t want a sibling!” She shouted, crossing her arms. I frowned.

“Don’t say that.” I sternly warned. “How would you feel if you had an older sibling, and before you were born they already decided they didn’t want you? And how do you think that makes me feel?” I asked. She paused, looking at the floor.

“I didn’t think of that.” She whispered. She let go, and her eyes returned to their wide gaze. She crawled to sit between my legs and hugged me. I held her close.

“Sorry mommy.” She removed herself and sat between my legs, looking up at me quietly. I smiled and poked her nose. She smiled back, her rose coloured lips curled upward, and her dimples formed. I remembered the moment she first smiled.