The Mechanics of Birth - A Poem (from "Four Folded Corners")

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