Dystopian Novel Character Journals

The Handmaid's Tale

Chapter VIII Birth Day 19-21

Ofwarren (Janine) : 

    It is finally the day where  I get to help a human enter this world. I call the baby in my stomach a human because I know I cannot get too attached to him or her. After all, If the baby turns out healthy I will only be able to nurse him or her for a few months then I'll be transferred. I might as well enjoy the delicious food gestures from the Marthas and the non-stop complements from the Commander Wives for being the ideal Handmaid. The other handmaids made it to the house and they seemed to possess the emotions that I feel deep inside such as nervousness, anxiety and yet happiness. I feel the contractions kicking in and get assisted upstairs to the birthing room. As the handmaids enter, they stared at me. Did they feel sorry, happy, envious, or all of those feelings at the same time? As the pain increased I started to yell and the handmaid's started to chant with the Aunt's initiation. If it were the normal days and I was giving birth to my child again, I would yell for them to stop chanting... 
       
One of the Wives:

   What a delightful day for us wives. One of us are finally having a child. Unfortunately, the handmaid is not one of mine. My handmaid doesn't even take a shower and another refuses to eat many times. Most of the handmaid's are selfish. They take our husbands and they get to be apart of something so  beautiful and feminine. Ofwarren is having contractions now so we must cheer on the wife to go get prepared for the ceremony. I hate her, I hate the handmaid, and I hate this day unless it were me getting prepared for the ceremony. I might as well indulge myself in the food made for us wives and chug down the wine. What a great feeling, to be intoxicated while the handmaids chant their selves away in the birthing room. Eat sip of wine intensifies my envy and desire to be someone other than myself. I want to be the one being praised and taken care of. 

Ofwarren (Janine): 

    They held a portable toilet! In front of all these women who still feel like such strangers, they made me use the toilet in front of them all. This birth is miserable, it is terrifying, rude, uncomfortable, inhumane, and disgusting. The pain has gotten a lot worse and I know it is time. It is actually time. I regret this, I hate this, it isn't what I want and I've been lying about what I displayed as happiness. The Commander's Wife and I get into position. She is acting as if she's the one giving birth and as if she's the one who has an insanely horrifying pain in her lower abdominal. I want her to stop it, each time she pretends, I feel more enraged. I pushed, and pushed, and eventually the baby came out. I felt like holding her. I needed to hug her, care for her, nurture her, and tell her mommy will protect her. I was scared about the feeling I would get when I saw her, the motherly instincts. My eyes filled with tears and I was exhausted yet full of pain, emotional pain. The aunt took her away from me, cleaned her, then placed her in the arms of the Commander's Wife. The pain of not having her in my arms is worse than the physical pain of birth. I'll never be a mother again no matter how many babies I birth, those days are over forever now. 

One of the Wives: 

    It isn't time to enter the birthing room yet. We hear the screams and the chants of all the handmaids. We discuss things that were so off topic to why we were here. We talked about knitting, gardening and the newest things we have gotten from the black market. I drank more wine and I felt myself getting a bit woozy. I feel myself becoming a mess. Am I a mess? I hope the baby is in good condition but if not at least I got some delicious cheese and wine. Finally it was time to go upstairs to see the baby. I wondered what the sex of the baby is? The odor from the room was absolutely nauseating and I felt myself gagging. I chugged a bit more wine in hopes that the odor will die off from being a bit more intoxicated. The baby was in the wife's arms. It was a cute baby girl. I wish she were mine. I stared at the wife and the baby, I felt so jealous. The wife named the baby Angela. The name is okay but I would of named her Charlotte. I said Angela was a good name anyways. My handmaids better be pregnant already otherwise I will make their life hell, absolutely hell. 

Tips on writing first person viewpoint:
 http://www.the-writers-craft.com/first-person-point-of-view.html

How to make readers feel emotion: 
http://www.the-writers-craft.com/first-person-point-of-view.html