Here is an Excerpt for the poem I had published in this issue.
There was no way that I could sleep,
Due to this pain that would not cease;
They wanted me to hold him in,
But my body forced his release.
No preparation, you shot out,
Even the nurses weren’t ready.
The doctor is late as we wait,
Not in stirrups, I’m unsteady.
Forced to have a natural birth,
The drugs didn’t come though I did beg;
Rob cries, but the baby does not.
No movement, spy a pure white leg.
Is he dead? The nurse sees Rob’s tears,
And says “We’re doing all we can”
I don’t yet know what’s going on,
But Rob securely holds my hand.
Now incubated, your chest heaves
I helplessly watch through the glass;
Reeling with all uncertainty,
Yet very certain it will pass.
They say you will be here for months,
And there’s nothing that I can do;
But I’ve got people all across
This country praying just for you.
Some day soon you’ll open your eyes,
Then at last you’ll know who I am;
I can’t wait until they let me
Hold you, like my dear little lamb.
I pray for healing as you lay
On top your tiny papoose-bed;
At last allowed to touch your back
With my fingers; nails painted red.
