He Was Mine by Libby Carswell

This poem is one I wrote about my son's birth:

He Was Mine

Warm November rolled in with rain.
Lying awake, up and down,
I just wanted to sleep
Then—POP!
I sprang from my bed with the burst balloon in my belly.
Through the window of the car my eyes followed the street lights.
Streaks of light and shadows dizzied me.
Churning stomach told me to vomit.
Hours of nothing…weak stretching and constricting brought nothing.
The drip---drip---drip…medicine to make them stronger.
They’ll rip me in two, I know that they will.
Started in the center of my back…
Then crept, then raced in circles over and over again
They refused with to stop; with vengeance they tore.
Inhale-1-2-3-4-5---Aaaggghhhh…again…Inhale-1-2-3-4-
I can’t. I can’t. Tears crept from eyes shut tight.
…make it stop!...Oh, God make it stop!
I cried, I wept, I begged for the end
Then, he came.
Little white waxy splotches on his skin. He was so red!
He squalled so beautifully.
He was here.
He was more gorgeous than anything I’d ever seen.
He was mine.
Divine and perfect…so big, but oh so small.
Wrapped up tight and put to my breast…he was mine.
Yes, and divine.