I Know

Its late, I know
Sod’s law would dictate
This close to Christmas
It was bound to be late

It’s round the wrong way
Not the way a baby should grow
“Don’t worry” they say
“They always turn”.

But I know

It’s been too long. Not a wriggle, or a kick
No fluid left
They’ll have to act quick
Or I’ll be bereft

A potion, a prick, a pill
Start and stop for days, until
Third time’s a charm
The baby’ll come to no harm

I just know

I want the needle, I need to sleep,
It’s the middle of the night
They’re worried it’ll make things more slow
But the epidural is right

I just know

At last things are moving
But we’re out of luck
The baby’s descending
And the head has got stuck

Bells, bleeps, blue gowns and alarms
Racing to the theatre, such drama
A tragedy? No
A happy ending

I just know

Blue and grey and slack
Faces all pale
Massage and oxygen will bring him back
We’re holding our breath, waiting to inhale

A cry, clenched fists, skin becoming pink
And so much red
Blood all around the bed
Surgeon with his thread
It’ll hurt later, I think

We’re both exhausted and so we rest
Wake up hungry – tea, toast and breast
Face battered, bruised and beautiful.
My sweet boy. My joy.
So, this is love.

Now, I know


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