Hang on baby

No pickles for me
I want talking chocolate nuts
Take that jar away

This one is so much easier than the first. I am less mercurial than before. He rolls around as if there were little Whos riding a rollercoaster through Whoville inside of me. The doctor says this tiny little man could be in my arms any day now but I pray he has the patience to wait until I can take the tinseled covered tree down. Pine needles turned brown lay crusted on the floor. My first sits her little rear near the stockings and carefully pushes the fallen needles into a pile. Her tender heart is beautiful, unfathomable she came from me. Will I love this one just as much? Is it even possible?

Pressure bubbles in
me. I say it’s time to go
Baby hang on tight

Feeling restive, I look at him and tell him something isn’t right. He lays his stony hands on my sweat covered body, looks at me white faced and says I just forgot what birth feels like. But I know something is wrong. Baby isn’t breathing doctor tells me. Vision blurred, pain seduces but the fear climbs as no sounds are made. Baby hang on tight. Black and blue. Where is the pretty pink ball of flesh I was expecting? A loud cry sneaks out. Was that me or baby? Grim expressions turn to smiles.

Color’s back. Doc says,
“My mistake, he is a she.
Here’s your little girl.”