Abruption

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
Fast
Blood and blood pressure cuff
IV stabs and barrage of questions
Fast
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.

Things I Miss

Teeter-totters
Time to catch ladybugs
Tooth fairy money
Covering my hands with Elmer's glue and then peeling it off slowly, like another set of skin
Sticking out my tongue to catch the falling snow
Playing with my mother's makeup
Singing to my dolls
Climbing trees
Thumb wars
Four-square
Tether ball
Camping in the backyard
Making bread pudding - I don't even remember how to anymore
Catching toads
The Babysitters' Club
Wanting to become a marine biologist
My old bedroom
The time to daydream all day
Fruit Loop necklaces
Sneaking out of the house to play night games
Not needing to lock the door or worry about sex offenders and maniacs
Easter egg hunts
Family dinners
Writing real letters - on paper
Believing the best about the people I love

To Norah

I haven't written much in a while because I'm pregnant and I've had a serious problem with morning sickness. I'm feeling a bit better these days and with my increased energy have come joy and excitement about the prospect of meeting my daughter in a few months.

Lately I find myself talking to Norah and wishing she could understand me and talk back. There's so much I want to say to her. I don't want to forget these conversations, so I've decided to record them at tonorah.blogspot.com  - feel free to visit if you like.

The Fly

For once I stopped to gaze at you,
A blur of silver buzzing through,
And knew
That indeed we are what we do.

Temple

Last night I awoke
To the tender pulse
Of so many arcane parts of me
Diligently working
To make room for you.
I never was a temple
Until now.

Wake

Your tracks
My mourning
The end of a dream.

Upon Visiting the Old House

My tears were not a cry, but a song

The song of today devouring yesterday –

Equal parts lamentation

And celebration.

I cried because I could again

Sense the pulse of my first kiss

Taste icicles plucked from the patio roof

See the snowman stand sentinel

Beyond my gossamer curtains

Watch my dreams bounce playfully

Atop bright allium balls

Along the garden, stopping now and then

To chase hummingbirds among the lilies

Of the valley of my youth

Start a fried chicken food fight, fling

Mashed potatoes on the freckled face

Of my first friend

Prick our thumbs with rose thorns

Blood sisters

Smile hello all summer to so many

Red cheeks

Gapped teeth

And sun-peeled

Shoulders

Comrades in walnut wars

And hopscotch battles

I swore I’d never forget

(But did)

I cried because I missed my tomboy knees and caveman soles –

I missed my soul –

There is no childhood

Like a barefoot one.