They don't tell you
that you'll have to lie flat
on your back
hold your own legs
from behind your knees
and pull them toward you
as close to you
as your bulging belly will allow
and that he may criticize you
for not knowing how to push
for not taking Lamaze.
You've only known him
as the small, gray-haired
Russian who barely smiles
tells you you've gained too much weight --
this being your first is no excuse.
They don't tell you
he may deny you an epidural
when you can't bare it any longer.
Initally,
you said you'd try
to go Natural
but that was before
the labor peaked
paralyzing you.
Or that
he might wait too long
and then,
you'd have no choice.
Natural childbirth
Pushing
How can one push "wrong"?
"Breathe, hee hee hoo hoo," she says
"When you feel the need to push, do so,
and hold til I count to ten."
The nurse thinks she's helping.
She counts, but she's distracted.
Her counting slows down, is off beat --
"Hold it -- no -- don't make a sound,"
but I release off cue.
Failure
A failure at pushing
at giving birth to my own son.
Time to hold my breath, wait,
expel --
We're like two rhythm-less dancers
on the floor --
I'm up to 10, she's on 8
I can't wait,
expel.
They don't tell you not to moan or groan
beforehand --
wasted energy --
but you can't speak.
My face reddens up,
cheeks puff up,
vessels pop beneath my eyes.
Baby's on the brink of crowning
"You have to try harder," he says,
"He can't stay that way much longer."
And all I can think of
because I'm muted in pain
is someone save my baby.
I scream, fuck the rules
I push and scream, I still can't speak
Push, push -- help.
Within moments, he cuts me,
and my son slides free --
He's wriggling but quiet,
I look at my husband and cry,
"Is he okay?"
"He's fine... beautiful," he says,
"Lie quiet."
In a flash, he is weighed
I hear his cry,
and he's cleaned,
dried.
And his eyes ---
opened wide.
He lies in my trembling arms
a big, head-full-of-hair boy
eyes blinking through the balm --
Hi, Mom.
By Mary E. Lohan
although you're tired
although you're tired
