Small little cramps that disappear very quickly,
not really painful, they just feel niggly.
Getting on with your day, asking yourself if this is it?!
you’re overwhelmed at the thought, admit it.
It soon becomes clear these pains aren’t shifting,
It doesn’t matter what you do, they’re still persisting.
You take a paracetamol and have a sit down,
Your mind is a whizz, spiralling round and round.
They’re no longer cramps, they’re big waves of pain,
not long since gone and they come again.
You have a long soak in a nice warm bath,
youre a mother hen waiting for your chick to hatch.
The pain is unbearable but what can you do?
its not stronger than you, after all, it IS you.
You can do this, like millions of women before,
you have strength inside you,down to your core.
The burning is intense but baby is almost here,
building the push and praying for no tears.
You birth the most beautiful baby you’ve seen,
you’re not quite with it, it feels like a dream.
saviour this moment, your baby’s first breath’s,
you hold them tight to your breast.
theres nothing more natural than mother and newborn,
a bond unconditional, never to be torn.
This poem is for all mums and mums to be out there. Labour will be one of the hardest, most beautiful, most enduring things you will ever do. Whether you do it naturally, have a c-section, have no pain management or everything they can legally give you. Whether you hypno birth, water birth or opt to surround yourselves with Drs and nurses on a hospital bed. You do it and you give it your best. Sure, there might be times you doubt yourself but don’t, the female anatomy is truly amazing, you’re amazing, you’ve got this.
I remember I had to have a stern word with myself in my last labour, after 28 hours of contractions, my waters medically broken and being prepped for surgery as I was getting weaker with stubborn baby. I begged (I say begged, but I cried and pleaded like a toddler) for an epidural, yes the pain was intense but I was just exhausted. I’d looked after my one year old all day with contractions. Then up all night as they got worse but baby wouldn’t budge. And I’d truly met my endurance threshold. As they were just about to administer the injection I felt the need to push. But I’d gone beyond wanting to push and so I didn’t tell the nurses. Dangerous, I know. Each sensation, I bottled up until I told myself the ultimate relief would not to be pain free, but to have my baby in my arms. I turned, and pushed and pushed. He was born, he was a massive 10lb2oz and he was so handsome. I cried as I held him in my arms (something I sadly didn’t get chance to do with my first). And I cursed myself quietly for doubting myself, the midwives, my husband and most importantly, the whole birthing process.
You can do it. However you choose. Even if it’s not how you choose. It’s still the greatest thing you’ll ever do that actually matters. I’d do it all again given half a chance (But don’t let on to the husband).