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January 17, 2014 / AdamWritesPoems

Labour of Love 2

This is a poem about birth from a father’s perspective. It compares the the second time round with the first, which I wrote about here

This time they gave us a date,
but this time we still had to wait
as we were fourth in line to be sent
and a string of emergencies came and went.
So my wife waited in the hospital heat,
thirsty, and with nothing to eat
but, when I was away in the loo,
they came to say my wife was due.
This time I was still asked to wait outside
on the same plastic chair where I’d sat and cried
so, shaking and pacing the floor,
I peered through gaps in the same theatre door.
But this time there was laughter in that room
as they poked and prodded and anaesthetised her womb
and when I was eventually let in
instead of tears, my wife had a nervous grin.
This time, behind a blue cloth screen
I heard doctors working away, unseen
so I relaxed and held her hand,
together facing a birth the way it was planned.
and our girl was delivered by those unseen heroes,
who measured her weight and counted her toes
and when they had her clean and dried
this time she was able to stay by our side.


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