Wednesday, 17 April 2013

Wrung Dry



So I really never knew what to expect from it all
However, I'd made grand plans you see
I’d written lists
I’d gone to classes
I'd packed a bag with items that I would never ever need
And to the older and the wiser I’d taken great heed
I'd read the glossy manual
The one with ectstatic and elastic ladies ready to go forth and multiply
Graphic pictures of how I would look to the end of bed hoverers
down below
A girl or a boy?
My bundle of joy
I was going to be a mother

Whitewashed walls and the vaguely comforting aroma of chemicals
And crying and screaming
That’s what greeted me on my arrival
Officious nurses in greens and blues
All stood in rows
And oh so detached as they’d seen it all before,
Others of my kind
Oh I was nothing new, dear
I was merely the next one on their production line



The pain relief and implements to administer were offered
On paper clothed trollies a dazzling array, a glimmering tray
For me to greedily snatch some respite
No soothing music
No special breathing techniques for me tonight
And as I opted for my drug of choice
And as the needle crunched between each vertebrae
And the sweet fluid pumped soothingly into my spine
And as I squeezed my eyes tight onto a distant spot in my mind
I didn’t visibly wince and I didn’t wonder how
The hell I would get through this
‘It would soon be over’
‘Not much longer now’

Then came the animal from within
More of a horse than a stork
Thundering over that hill, getting closer and then retreating
Returning again seconds later
Teasing me
Each frantic gasp on the mask
Easing me
Into that basic instinct to expel
According to all present
And the graphs and ever watchful monitors
I was ‘doing really well’


The last stages were surprisingly quite painless
It was a relief to finally let go of it
To see what I had hosted for the last 280 days
To see if we had the same eyes
The same hair
The same shaped fingers
Anything at all that would connect me
To this perfect pink scrap
Thrust onto my lap
Stretched against my damp chest as I lay back on that bed
Each assessing the other
For what lay ahead

And afterwards we were wheeled together
To be with the others
That had done just as I’d done
It would appear that the greens and blues were right
And I was not the only one
There was now this small mewing mite
And I was no longer the centre of my world
We exchanged stories
Each one trying to outdo the other
With horror and gore
And who had hurt more
And our little parcels lay there
Ripe ready and new
For us to take away
And make of them all that we would wish of ourselves too

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