Childbirth

Written on January 30, 2021

I.
She walks out on the stage
Cello in hand
Her enormous belly a gargantuan protruding mass
Lying under the comfort of her purple satin 
dress
Folds upon folds of fabric 
Shield the soon to be born human
From the cold of the concert hall
She feels the fetus dance around
Anxious for what is to come
It performs its final flops in her belly
Its grand finale
Communicating with her
One last time
Before emerging into the world
A latent soul of flesh and blood
Lying dormant in the amniotic fluid
That nourishes it
As she walks across the stage
She remembers nine months of gestation
Of procrastination
Of the prestidigitation that the unborn baby
Performed for her within the confines of her dark dank womb
She remembers months of morning sickness
Of dialogues with her unborn progeny
The passing weeks
The growth of her abdomen
The little unexpected pops she felt
Every time the little one's fist or foot made contact
Sweet loving contact
With the walls of her belly
The quest it went on 
To nourish its brain, heart and body
Each time Mother dined on the flesh of a freshly slaughtered chicken
Or a piping hot slice of gooey apple pie
The flavors of the chicken
Salty roasted hot
Balanced out with the decadent sweetness of the pie
Makes for a delicious nighttime meal
The baby tastes these flavors
As the placenta nourishes it
It fondles her umbilical cord
Tinkering the tips of its fingers
Upon the long rope that connects mother and child

II.

She eases herself upon the chair
The weight of the child upon her legs
She starts off with a slow bowing of the cello
Breathes as much air as she can into her lungs 
And then begins a lively presto of a piece
Dancing along with the cello
The baby hears all of this, hears mom
playing an incredible concert
Its last concert to be heard within the womb
It wriggles its toes
It rocks back and forth
And as soon as the audience breaks out into applause
The chrysalis of amniotic fluid that kept it
sealed within the mother
Breaks onto the wooden floor of the stage

III.

She races into a wheelchair through the emergency room
Passing rows upon rows of hospital beds
Filled with individuals
Human souls
Hooked up to ventilators
As their family members hold their hands one 
last time
Nurses, doctors racing with masks on
In a frenzied nightmare
To save humanity against a deadly virus
That has killed over 400,000 people in this 
country and millions around the world.
Her dress now a damp mass dripping sweat 
and amniotic fluid from her body
She breathes quickly through the N95 mask
that covers her mouth
She can still feel him perform some last
minute movements
Begging her to let him stay
Begging her to let him continue to savor the
beauty of the womb
For all eternity
Until she is a dying decomposed corpse
No
I cannot let you stay
You stayed nine months
You have overstayed your welcome
Sorry 
You must come out in a dark and scary world
But I will hold your hand for you for all
eternity
Even when you grow older
The umbilical cord lies in the depths of your 
heart
We had fun together
Now I need you to come out

IV.

She pushes 
No epidural in all the heavens
Can force the child to emerge
He wants to stay nestled in the comfort of the womb
Even though he must detach from the
placenta
He screams his goodbyes
In tears
Upon
Tears
He begs for mercy 
Each time she forces him out
Of that painfully small hole
He knows no claustrophobia
Only a fear of what is to come
Living in a world of uncertainty.
When she pushes
Only her shit emerges
She is in too much pain to be embarrassed
by the smell
As the fresh pile of watery feces collects on
the delivery tab
A guttural yell rips from the depths of her
throat
AS the head emerges ever so slightly
As dilated as her cervix is
It still hurts like a motherfucker
She cries
And cries
And finally hears another cry
From across her
Her child
Born of flesh and blood
A mangled mass of crimson flesh and matted
hair
Belts out a song of new life, of new
possibilities
Of new hope and dreams
She joins in the chorus of call and response
And swaddles the mass of T-cells, flesh and
blood
The doctor cuts the umbilical cords
And hands the baby to the mother
She welcomes her baby as a brand new
member
Into the orchestra of life
To play a symphony with her
Encompassing all of the months they shared
together
And more memories they will share together
As mother and child

Author: The Arts Are Life

I am a writer and musician. Lover of music, movies, books, art, and nature. View all posts by The Arts Are Life