Womb to Winter: A Journey of Life's Seasons

I read the beautiful poem by Sam the Doula and her challenge. It called out to me to write my own poem of my first experience with my daughter, my first child.

Curled in my womb,

For long past,

When you were due, yet at last,

Two days after New Year’s Eve boom.

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It all started at dawn,

A little show of pink.

It was time we think,

Head to the hospital with a yawn.

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Then you decided to stay,

Not leave my womb that day.

Oh no, but we have started today,

You finally changed your mind, you were on the way.

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Long and unsure,

Stuck in a position that wasn’t working,

Drugs were given, no way to do this pure,

I was doing my part, I wasn’t shirking.

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Time passed like a clock,

With no hands.

Finally, a tiny hand emerged, said by the doc.

You waved as if you already had fans.

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In a Wonder Woman pose,

Was all we needed to know.

A story of strength would grow,

You are the epitome of a rose.

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Large and pink,

With a shock of dark walnut hair,

And delicate little nose and eyes that would dare.

You were an energetic little mink.

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We came together in a feverish embrace.

My young arms trembled,

I held you so gentle,

My heart was full of peaceful grace.

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I hugged you ,

As my womb was pushed,

From my body, I felt ambushed,

All of these pains were so new.

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Your home became echos,

From my stretched uterus.

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Our brief interlude,

Was fast and abrupt,

Worries from green scrubs disrupt,

The loving, get to know you mood.

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Temperatures taken,

Scrambling and whispers,

A cold feeling of shivers,

A dark ominous descends, leaving me shaken.

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I am sent to my hospital room,

You to the ICU,

Skin to skin contact not with you,

From joyous to doom and gloom.

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We came together,

I in a yellow scrub gown,

You in a plastic ICU Incubator with a frown,

All of our moods were as dark as the winter weather.

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A week later,

We brought you home,

Small slate blue eyes were set to roam,

You didn't want me, reached for your Papou, you little traitor.

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Our connection,

Is so strong, like the North Star.

Even if our first meeting didn’t live up to par,

My devotion to you has never change directions.

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Never did I have a clue,

That 25 years later, when I first held you,

My newborn daughter who grew and grew,

Would be the same day, I would hold on

To bid farewell to my dad, your Papou.