They tell me...

They tell me I'm going to have a cesarean -

well okay. That means no labor and that's kinda cool
since I wasn't fond of the thought of another hellish labor.

So they scheduled it for seven o:clock in the evening.
How strange to know I won't be pregnant after tonight,
my last day of pregnancy - three weeks early.
I would miss the tiny little movements of him inside of me,
and the secret, unspoken conversations.

I was just beginning to appreciate being pregnant
after the denial of the early months when I pretended I wasn't.

They admitted me at noon, and I ordered lunch.
Told them they couldn't schedule it at 7pm -
cause I needed time to find my husband...
but I really needed more time to be pregnant.
Lunch finally came... but so did a contraction.
I watched the clocked and watched my lunch, starving.
Should I eat?

I got mad, resenting them for telling me
when my baby was to be born,
and for being cheated out of lunch.
I wanted some control in the situation.

Then another contraction came,
and I resigned myself to starvation,
told my friend, who said "Don't be silly",
who told a nurse, who said "Don't be silly",
who told the doctor, who said "Impossible, she can't be in labor".

oh great... no one believed me
and I had already sent the lunch away.
I could hardly believe it myself...
this labor was so nice and easy,
the daddy would be proud of me, where-ever he was.

This labor was sweet and quiet, and kind, peaceful -
a quiet goodbye, a looking forward to hello.

Everybody rushing around, getting "the team" ready.
I watched, detached, concentrating
on saying goodbye... and hello.
.