The Beginning of A Young Clover
On the fifteenth day on the last month of autumn eleven years ago, the Boville couple was very nervous. The husband, Charlie, was anxiously waiting behind the front door of the inn for a nurse to help his wifeâs labor. Marianne was already groaning in pain. Her breath was furious as she held in the pain of contraction. The bed sheet was held tightly as if she was hanging onto it for life and death situation. But it was a life and death situation. If she couldnât be strong and manage to deliver her baby safely, then one of them would have to lose the chance of breathing in the wrecked wold.
Winter wind cruelly blew and brushed and slammed the window. It was colder than it supposed to be. Marianne was afraid that she couldnât wait any longer because cold made the pain even worse. She screamed when her husband rushed into the room with the long-awaited nurse.
âWhat took you so long?!â she charged with her words.
âDonât worry. The mediwizard is here now. Itâs going to be okay,â replied Charlie.
âAre you serious?! Do you know how much it hurts?!â
Again, threw back her head and moan loudly. For the young woman, and certainly any woman who had their first childbirth, the pain was unbearable. The mediwizard told her to try thinking happy thoughts and so she did. She tried to think about her very first book she read, the beautiful gown she wore in her debutante, the first dance she had with Charlie, and the expression of happiness when the family knew that she was pregnant.
âNow breathe, maâam. In and out,â said the nurse, âand when you breathe out, try and push the baby out as well.â
It was not simple at all. The position was very uncomfortable and all Marianne did was screaming at the top of her lungs. Charlie was no use. He didnât help much and ended up got on his wife unstable temper at the moment then was told to wait outside.
  It took several hours until Charlie was startled with a baby cry. He peeked at his pocket watch and it said 23:13 PM. He stood nervously in front of the door until the mediwizard allowed him to come inside. There he found his wife, drenched with sweat and was taking a long-deep breath, and his first child, a healthy and beautiful daughter, who was in her motherâs arm.
Just then, the window was forcefully opened by the strong and chilly breeze. Winter greeted the baby, pushing autumn and didnât let it said a single hello. The wind touched the skin of the daughter; it made her cried out loud. Her body was kind of trembling. It was cold. So cold. Charlie hurriedly closed the window and locked it with a spell. He ran and gave a warm embrace for Marianne and their daughter.
âItâs okay, darling. Youâre safe.â
  âWhat are you going to name her, Sir? Iâm going to have to take record,â asked the nurse as she prepared to go back to her place. âAnd the record will be kept at St. Mungo and after everything is done, I will send you the birth certificate.â
Charlie was relieved when he knew that there was a woman who worked as a nurse in St. Mungo but was having a vacation in the same area where he and Marianne stayed for their visit. For the question he was asked, he wanted to discuss it with Marianne since he hadnât think of any female name. He thought that the baby was a boy.
âShe if the very first Boville who was born outside Cornwall after decades. And out of any places in Britain, she was born outside of the country too! In Ireland!â he exclaimed in joy and confusion both at the same time. He looked up and noticed the four-leaved clover, a symbol of luck in Ireland. Maybe, just maybe, he could varied the country name into a feminine form of it.
He opened the door and saw Marianne was sleeping. She was exhausted. The baby slept soundly with her mother after the warmth she needed was enough. Charlie Boville smiled and just then he thought of the name;
âErin. Her name is Erin Boville.â
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