Poetry Wednesday – The Moment of Your Birth (Revisited)

My BabyThe moment of your birth was a relief,

Probably for you, too.

You were so late,

And we had been struggling for hours.

My body desperately trying to send you

into the world.

You desperately trying to stay home,

Or arrive,

I’m not sure which.

They whisked you away.

I don’t know where they took you.

I remember asking if you were okay;

More because I thought it was something I should say

Than because I wanted to know.

Someone – one of the ten or fifteen people who had been in and out of

Me and my room that day – said you were okay.

They must lie easily.  I learned later they took you to some neo-natal specialist

To make sure you didn’t have brain damage from being stuck

Between there and here for so long.

So you might not have been okay.

When the nurse brought you back to me

You were wrapped in a soft flannel blanket

White with delicate blue flowers

You were so tiny.

Too tiny to be whatever had passed

From there to here

Between my legs

You were so beautiful.

Unruly black hair; long, slender fingers; enormous violet eyes framed by soft, dark lashes;

Even your toothless mouth that filled the room with hungry, tired, confused cries

Was perfect and beautiful

And, you were powerful.

I fell hard and fast,

There are no words to describe.

I fell in love.

Heart stopped.

Breath gone.

You – eight pounds, seven ounces, barely two hours old –

Had more power over me than anyone else in the world.

I felt my whole self open.

Heart growing too big for my chest; eyes wide and filling with tears; lungs expanding

Searching for the breath you had taken.

I felt my whole self open

As if to pull you back inside

To live at the centre of my being

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