The Birth

The way the nurse looked at me, told me That something wasn’t quite right It’s why I‘d gone to the surgery that day I’d been feeling nauseous all night, The nurse called the doctor, who came to say “We’re going to start you off, right away.” They told me I had pre-eclampsia A condition both dangerous and rare But not to worry, that my baby and I, Would receive the best of care They put me to bed, and told me to rest Then every five minutes, took a blood pressure test The doc gave me a valium injection To bring my blood pressure down, Ten minutes later he came back again The smile on his face, replaced by a frown “I’m sorry Janette - your blood pressure’s too high If we don’t operate right this minute – you’ll die!” They gave me the anaesthetic, As they wheeled me down corridors grey And as we approached the theatre doors, I could feel myself drifting away The last thing I remember, before slumber serene Was the theatre staff, standing there, all dressed in green When I eventually came round, when I finally awoke Hooked to monitors, drugged, feeling sore I received such a shock, I shot up in bed Pulling all the drips down to the floor, The doctors and nurses then came rushing in To find out, what caused the alarm bells to ring They told me I’d been in a coma For two weeks, I’d been out of this world That the op had gone well, and I now Was the mum, of a beautiful, baby girl She was doing quite well, though still a bit weak, I was totally too dumbfounded to speak! Two weeks of my life are now missing, Absent time, I shall never recall But if not for those doctors and nurses I would never have been here at all, For my life, and that of my daughter they saved And for that I’ll be grateful, to the end of my days. © Janette Fisher – April 1983 This poem was written after the birth of my first daughter who is now 27