Men say, giving birth is a beautiful thing.
I agreed silently, until my turn came.
Laying flat on a table exposed, vulnerable,
anticipating the cry of a newborn.
The night fall of raining, pouring, down on the windows.
my body traveling through multiple changes
10 centimeters deep Dilating….
Sounds of medical staff in the distance .
I could hear doctors say get her prep right away…
What was wrong? Having my baby too soon ;
Underdeveloped lungs ,bad prenatal care, transfered from here to there.
Throwing up my bowels is what I remember ,eight months three weeks
“Count to ten”, said he the doctor,
placing the oxygen mask over my face .
It was dark all day…. Reflecting,
making peace with the soul maker.
I thought I was eating right;working so hard to keep my status of medical care and salary .
Going to school did I mention working .
Daily stress of being a wife, friend, keeping up w/ the status of my foes.
Pursuing my dreams of a better destiny
listening to crowds, witness testify ,suck it up girl ,don’t quit ,
Legs and arms swollen from being on my feet , consuming too much salt .
A prize fighter black eyes, white lips
I gave birth on thee emergency table, cutting my baby, out of me…
The nurse leaned , said she, “its all your fault you know”.
Day three up on my side.
Wheeled around to NICU, observing my daughter, fight for her life 3 pound 13 ounces tubes everywhere.
Staring at her frail body, watching her bones breathe under the hot light
Crying and praying asking for forgiveness.
Telling the Gods I didn’t know. Pumping milk for a baby who couldn’t suck for several days.
I named her Judah.
Poet Krissy Mosley