Tag Archives: Baby

On Saskia, written in early January 2017

Her right foot isn’t quite right. Not left, just not right enough.

The midwife told us she’s seen some feet come out backwards though, which made us feel better.

She also has twin constellations, crimson-coloured. One on her crown and the other on nape of her neck, just above the hairline. Apparently they fix themselves too. Which is neat.

Her umbilical cord, having pulsed its last, was clamped with a little plastic thing that reminded me of putting out the washing. The weird stubby, well, stub (which I remember from the kittens born in the hot-water cupboard) healed quicker than my last google search said it might. Which, again, was worrisome (for some reason).

Now the baby bullet hole is weeping a little and I’m too scared to touch it. Not even with a wet cotton ball. And actually the midwife said to me on our last visit “Oh, you’re the dad who couldn’t look while I opened it up!” Yes that was me.

We are more or less resolved to an outie — but it could still go either way.

What can I say, it’s as new to us as it is to Saskia — only we have stretchier, more exercised imaginations at this point so can more readily envision the infinite ways for fate to fuck us up. She can see shadows too of course, but only ones about 10cm from her face.

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Expecting

Her name is Little Running River
And she bubbles by the bushes
Falling over stones she sucks in air
Feeding fish, fronds, and fennel
Time flows slowly for her
Through muddy dams and wide-leaved lillies
Does she dream of the sea, where her journey ends?
Or maybe of the spring that also birthed her siblings
Little Running River, laughing

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On a Friend Showing Me His First Scan

Another human floats in its mother’s waters
A hydronaut exploring the womb
Trailing a thin, curling cord, with arms held close

In the coming months change will come
The little one becoming less little
Its incubator too

Dad won’t stay the same either
Growing responsibility
And yet more love for them both

When the timer rings
The fertilised egg come to fruition
Another human floats into its mother’s world

They’re doing what comes naturally
Building x and y blocks
Mandrake fed

If we’re lucky, we’ll make children as well
Choosing names we’ve scribbled for ages
And living for ever

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