Saturday, December 15, 2012


There were no warning signs
No red flags until
The rush of crimson which did not drip or drizzle
But poured angrily down my legs.
I felt no pain
Or if I did it didn't matter
Because I thought I had killed her
And I tangled all the wires in my brain
Trying to figure out how I'd done it:

Had I eaten too many cookies?
Exercised too much? Too little?
Worked more than I should?
Angered God?
What had I done, or not done?

ER entrance lights, wheel chair
Blood and blood pressure cuff
IV stabs and barrage of questions
And blood and why won't it stop?
And then the contractions
Pokes and prods and another stab
The nurse casually, quickly, tells me
Something about banking blood
But I hate talking about the red stuff.

I don't learn until later that I was in danger, too.
The wires in my brain were still in knots
And I could only think of her.
I was just a vessel now
A vessel with a mechanical problem.
I begged for help
I couldn't bear to lose my cargo.

She never noticed.
She never distressed, or wanted for anything.
Two weeks later I still think I feel it
Even see it
The blood soaking through white towels
Disturbing a moment that should be clean and calm,
 That should be all pink bows and onesies -
But then she kicks me and reminds me to relax
And have another cookie.

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