The Birth of a Son

This was written in response to PHILLYDREAMER's Poetry Challenge: Life's Special Moments. I did this right when I started here at hubpages and I didn't quite follow the entire expectation. So.....I am updating and doing it right this time around! First and foremost, thank you to PHILLYDREAMER for presenting these challenges. They are fun and interesting. Even though I don't present them all, I do enjoy playing around with your ideas. Hubbers, I highly recommend a visit there!Try a challenge or two!

Too soon....it's too soon. Hurry, hurry. Blurred images rushing past me, a strong breeze on me as they race me to delivery. I can't breathe. Please someone, help me breathe. I see my sister. Standing in the corner. Is she crying? She's holding a bag. My lunch, a treat? We turn a corner, someone checking my IV, my oxygen mask. Someone checking the fetal monitor as we race through the hospital. All that I am, all that I was, all that I will be....led up to this moment. There is nothing else. We arrive. I expected it to be quiet and pastoral but it wasn't. As the doctors and nurses kept piling in, they kept a steady flow of conversation. People counting, hands lifting me to another bed, blood pressure cuff on. Oxygen turned up. People greeting me, explaining what they are doing. I want to yell "Stop! Don't worry about me. Take care of the baby" I am all alone in the crowd. A crowd of doctor's and nurses that I have spent the last 5 weeks with, preparing for this moment. I am NOT ready I want to shout. I feel like crying. I think maybe I am a little. It's too soon. I want my husband. I want my mother. They are outside I am told. They are here for you. Outside. All told there are at least 10 people in the room, maybe more. We have gathered a following, this tiny baby and I and everyone wants to be here to witness this birth. This little miracle. I am so scared and so afraid to admit that I am a little bit excited to finally meet you. Happy, giddy excited. The way I think a woman at a full term birth must feel. Soon I feel pressure, tugging. I want my husband, my mother. They are outside.I am so afraid. Not of the pain. I am afraid for my baby. It's too soon.There is one nurse, my nurse, here just for me. She strokes my hair and holds my hand. They continue, more pressure, more tugging. Then quiet. So quiet. Too quiet. I wait for what seems like an eternity. The doctor comes around. He tells me it's a boy. A boy. I ask "Is he...?" I can't finish the question. He tell me yes, he is breathing. I breathe, too. They are working on me. I don't want them to fix me or help me until I see him. I don't want them to touch anything but him. Keep him alive. I try to watch. I strain to see him but all I can see are shadows. Soon, a nurse is standing in front of me. She has a tiny blanket that she brings near my face. I spot a very tiny face. I gasp in wonder, in amazement. There is a slight flutter like a tiny butterfly, a miniature hand snakes out. My nurse, my support, takes my hand and brings it to yours. I am still basking in the wonder of your being as you are whisked away and I surrender to sweet oblivion.

This was one of the scariest days of my life as well the one of the happiest. Our little miracle grew up to be an amazing young man. Please read the post I wrote for his college graduation this past May!

In 2009 more than one million infants died per year because they were born too early. Preterm babies are any baby born at the 37th week or before. 1 in 8 babies is born early.