house of happy

Life adventures in prose and verse. Explorations of places, people and words. Stories and fun.

Sunday, 1 July 2012

Edinburgh, 17-18 March 1995

An awakening, a rising tide, a call, a hug
(he will soon be here)
A hot bath in the morning, birdsong, colour, clarity, a soothing
(I see him already)
A walk to the hospital, stooped over the occasional pain
(no cars, no trams, no horse and cart today)
March 17.

Eleven hours of labour
A brightly lit room, surgeons, a glint of knives
(he still wants to sleep, won't be rushed)
A womb cut open like a pomegranate
(and now you see the inside of me
your eyes bright blue wide open
wonder, gulp, mirror
the scarlet sphere
where he slept all this time)

A very small creature, copper skin, black hair
lifted high, high and away from me
(Romeo and Juliet on the radio in the operating theatre)
A cry

A boy.

We sleep.

A wake up call in the night.
Midwife says 'time to feed your baby'.
Oh my God, a Baby!
(he is, for the first time
at 3 a.m. and drinking warm milk from my breast
real to me)

He looks at me, my hazel eye a telescope
to my heart, that ardent world, that pulsing geography.
(what does he see?)

We sleep.

Then morning.
For 12 hours now, we are three!

A visit, two visits, many visits
A 10 Deutschmark note in his crib, for luck
(a Bosnian thing, put there by the mayor of Tuzla
who sang Zute Dunje - aman,aman - at our wedding
and again at his Scottish reception last night
while he was being born)

A joy, as never before

In your arms
our baby


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