Kindly get my coat as I have changed my mind.
I won’t be giving birth today, I think you will find.
I did read all the books but this is not for me.
I think I’ll cross my legs, go home, have a cup of tea.
Midwife I may strike thee. Imagine my cervix is a flower?
Are you having a bloody laugh? I’ve been at 9cm for an hour!
He’s made himself a Pot Noodle, my calm, collected hubby
And he’s watching a Columbo which just isn’t bloody funny.
I watch him, brazenly slurping, and hope he chokes on a pea,
Because frankly I’m furious that this is all down to me.
Ouch, Jesus Christ! Epidural, I beg you, please!
I know my birth plan states natural but my brain must have had a disease.
What the holy hell was I thinking? Drugs! Do it! Now!
What do you mean it’s too late, you stupid bloody cow?
Expletives leave my lips, firing around the labour ward.
I won’t repeat them to you (but they’re miles away from Good Lord).
Hubby offers his hand which I am compelled to bite
Because he isn’t in any pain and that doesn’t feel right.
The head is here, I hear someone say.
Can I go home now? Do this another day?
The pressure makes me push and push and push
And scream like a banshee resulting in the gush
Of the slippery newborn and then the blessed cry.
We have a baby daughter. Welcome. Hello. Hi.
Trickling down my cheeks, happy salty tears
As I snuggle her in close and forget all my fears.
Gazing into hubby’s eyes, loving him more than ever,
I forget now, why was I at the end of my tether?