Spring moon’s plea
Bulging stray momma cat
Fashioned sign to me
You were to be
Five kittens so many mittens
Skin hemisphere balloon
La Maze La Leche La La La
Cards, boards, pegs
Tick-tocked centimeters
Winter moon’s trudging
Circuits, making snow butter
Babydaddy nurse say
Sleightime! Showtime!
Velvet curtain in fifty-five
Spacepod malfunction
Fuzzy grease monkeys
A slippery bullet
Shot from the chamber
Whisked away
After seconds
No time to say hello
Overnight tupperware
Morning’s seal of approval
Reunited
Whole again
The longer version:
The night before a prayer uttered
Next day the fat momma to-be
Walked down the center of our driveway.
Answer you were soon to-be
Five kittens played on the floor
As a skin hemisphere ballooned
La Maze La Leche La La La
That afternoon we played cribbage
For hours
That night we trudged our
Snow circuit, making snow butter
Daddy nurse decided when to go
5 cm at the hospital
Born in less than an hour
Premature separation of the placenta
Pitocin drip with Demerol
A slippery bullet
Shot from the chamber
They whisked you away
After seconds on my chest
No time to say hello
Trapped in tupperware overnight
Morning’s seal of approval
We were reunited
As if an eternity had passed
The poems tell the same story, about my decision to become pregnant and through the birth of my first son. The first poem is the condensed version of the second poem. I hope they aren’t too cryptic or oblique to explain what happened, but if they are, please ask and I’ll try to answer.
Amaya Engleking is today’s host of dVerse.Ā Amaya says:
Simply meditate on the concept of birth and see how your own poem is born on the page. You may also consider birth control and world population, the primal quality of animal birth, the unfortunate state of birth policy in many countries throughout the world (treating the natural process as if it were always a medical emergency), the birth of an idea or work of art, geological birth of mountain ranges or other awe-inspiring formations, universal genesis, rebirth and spiritual awakening, or anything else subjected to creation and generation.
Lol. I missed the choice to get pregnant. I am glad you decided to get pregnant. My husband and I decided not to.
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Thanks Toni. Up until then I was quite decided not to, but I started to doubt the decision as I was getting older. I prayed that day for a sign, and the pregnant momma kitty showed up the next day. Hard to ignore the cosmos š
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Awesome poem Lisa. I never met anyone I trusted enough to have a baby with. Wish I had, though.
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Thanks Susan. It took me 25 years to believe creating new life and bringing it into this world was a choice I wanted to make. My mind at the time was, “I’m going to have this baby with or without the father’s knowledge, consent, and support, if need be.” I told him afterwards and really had no idea how he would react. He was happy and that was that.
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Mine was such a different story. We just had to look at each other and I seemed to get pregnant. But the tough part was many losses. Five beautiful children in the end with the sad loss of our last infant, Andrew. (Congenital heart, lost at 17 days.)
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I can’t even begin to imagine the agony of losing even one child let alone more than one. I had a great aunt that lost several children. I remember a story in the family was one of the babies was so small they had her in a shoe box and kept her warm in the oven (wow it’s been a long time since thinking about that!) In the end she had a beautiful daughter, Carrie ā¤
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I love your handle: Both of us Can’t look good….it’s either me or the house.
That really brightened my day, lol š
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I’m glad things worked out the way they did for you and your family. š
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Wow, thanks for sharing. I felt the first version of the poem was a little too truncated to fully grasp the fullness of your experience. The second version was very satisfying. You had me reading birth as /a slippery bullet shot from the chamber/.
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I appreciate the feedback, Glenn, thank you. I think when the doc saw the situation he needed to make sure my son was born as quickly as possible to he laid on the pitocin (I just checked online and the oxytocin is what the body makes and the pitocin is a synthetic of it) before something tragic happened.
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I love that you posted both versions. The first version had me creating entirely different meaning than the second.
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Oh really? Good to know! If you care to say more, I’d love to hear it.
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The first one is definitely more cryptic and had a beatnik performance like feel – as if you were making some kind of political statement. The birth of a politician and his ideas! – fashioned sign to me/you were to be …etc. Then I read the second one and went…oh ya, I get it!
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Heather, thanks much, that is very helpful info for me.
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My pleasure.
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The birth process in the hospital whisks them away and puts them in Tupperware! I love this description. That is the way it is….
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If you have a standard western medicine delivery room, it’s the way it is. I was lucky enough to have my second son in a “newfangled” birthing room, and the experience was like night and day. I was able to keep him after they cleaned him off. No whisk away to the tupperware. My husband had a cot set up in the corner and got to stay there also, and it was decorated like a bedroom and there weren’t any sterile walls and equipment invading the space. I’m not complaining about the birth of my first son though as he was in need of the medical stuff due to the situation. It all worked out just fine in the end.
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That is wonderful! How great your could keep the birth experience all together in one room!
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It was easier to identify with the second version, Jade, especially the lines:
āFor hours
That night we trudged our
Snow circuit, making snow butterā
and
āThey whisked you away
After seconds on my chest
No time to say helloā.
I remember being so afraid they wouldnāt bring my daughter back; I had been in Ireland only four months, didnāt have many friends, was taken to the wrong maternity hospital and had no idea how I would get home. In the end, the brothers of a woman I knew collected me in a pick-up truck full of root vegetables!
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Thanks for the feedback on the two poems, Kim. Wow I can’t imagine traveling home with a new baby in a truck full of root vegetables! Sounds like a scary time all the way around.
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It was!
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The reunion at the end completes the circle.
The second version illuminates the first. Each adds to the other I think, so I’m glad you posted them together. (K)
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Thanks so much, Kerfe, for your illumination ā¤
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Is snow butter a rap song?
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Good question. Not yet!
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Your second version was clearer to me with the notes and comments filling in details. Most of my grandchildren have been birthed at home with a midwife…no whisking away or Tupperware (and, thankfully, no complications!) Thanks for sharing, Lisa.
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Thanks for the feedback on the two poems, Lynn. So glad the home birth way has worked for your family š
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However they come, it takes courage!
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The first version only made sense to me only after reading the second… the pure physics of giving birth is so strong here… my wife and me never managed to get children… so this is an experience we have never had.
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Thank you for the feedback on the two poems, Bjorn. Nature is kind when it gives a short memory especially when it comes to giving birth. Right after our first son was born I was decided never again. lol. Then about a year later we decided he needed a brother. Thankfully there were no complications with my younger son. The complications came after, with me. I’m not sure how you and your wife feel about no children? OK with it?
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Lisa, I enjoyed the first so much because of its beat-like rhythm and yes, it did embody the revolutionary warrior spirit, but it didn’t convey as well as the second, the sadness of “the eternity” without your newborn son. Thank you for sharing both!
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Amaya, thank you for your feedback on the poems, and I’m glad I posted both.
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This is a beautiful love poem between mother and child.
Very touching.
My mother and I stopped speaking for a year for various reasons. When we got back together eventually, I wrote a poem for her that I was able to give her before she passed a few years later. I was so glad I was able to do that. I think poetry can really touch the heart.
I bet your son or daughter loves your poem…..if you showed it to him or her, of course. š
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Thank you, Stacie (I really hope I remembered your name correctly!) No, I didn’t show it to my son but one day maybe. My mom and I have had a love-hate relationship for about 50 years now. It’s not hate anymore. More aversion at all costs, at least on this end. Maybe I can find a way to a poem to write to/for her before she passes.
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Yes, you did remember my name. Good memory!
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Yay! š
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