Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: Labor

Milk Shakes and Enemas

Some doctors are too strict about
a pregnant woman’s “dos” and don’ts”
So I went to a good midwife
so didn’t issue “can’ts” or “won’ts”

I kept up with my calcium
the folic acid, fruit treats, too
But when the temp hit 1-0-3
I called her, whining “What to do?

“I’m sweating like a roasted pig
I’ve showered cold three times today
I need the consummate relief…
I need it NOW, without delay!”

“You’re nine months in, due any day
May I suggest, indulge yourself
Choose something cold and make it sweet
Go get the blender off the shelf”

Now Baby kicked up quite the storm,
I took it as an omen good
Some chocolate ice cream, Hershey sauce
The ultra in forbidden food

Plopped by the air conditioner
set on Freeze Off My Toes,
as Baby did the Caffeine Dance
my smile bloomed like a perfect rose

Of course, that night, my water broke
and labor quickly did commence
with my intestines like a brick…
The milk shake, oy! No common sense

Now, enemas are never fun
Less so when huffing through the pain
Were I another babe to bear,
no third-trimester shakes again

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Amy Laura Strangle
And they all lived happily ever after
(Image from Amy’s private collection, pls. do not duplicate)

Poetic Bloomings wanted a poem about two contrasting things. This was the first “odd couple” to come to mind, and it’s a true story, ugh. The only good thing that came out of that ordeal (I spared you the boomerang Gatorade!) was Riley.

Also linked to my little slice of heaven, Imaginary Garden With Read Toads’ Open Link Monday!


A Brief Hello

Fruitless labor
Pitocin-dosed
forced contractions

Tears doubled
by knowing
what’s to come

The final push
The heartbreaking
silence

She holds the baby
who will never
suckle at her breast

Tiny boy, gone
before he arrived
An empty promise

Yet, she holds him
Swaddles him
Kisses him

Strokes him
Adores him
Names him

One photo
Mom and Gabriel
Her little angel

Goodbye

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Well, after the fun with Shakespeare yesterday, I fell into memories of my mom and her telling me about “the one that got away.” Times have changed since then: Even though my mother’s baby was about six months old, she never saw her second girl child. Susan at Imaginary Garden With Read Toads, where I’ve been posting daily since the first of April, asked for a Hello or Hello/Goodbye poem, so this allowed me to put my emotions into words. This will also appear at my poetic birthing center, Poets United.

Nowadays, they take a picture, they do name the baby, they have a funeral, a burial or internment. I think it’s a healthy part of the grieving process that will come no matter what, for the mother with swollen breasts and no baby to feed. I wish my mother could have met her baby girl. May all babies be born healthy – and wanted. Peace, Amy


Labor Room Blues (in the key of AARGH!)

Would that my trap door’d been
strung with elastic
My labor would have been
oh, so easy – less drastic

If I am blessed with one
more babe, I’m sure I’ll
scream, “Cancel the Gatorade!
Let’s try epidural!”

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Three Word Wednesday: Labor, Cancel, Elastic
Also at Poets United, prompt: Strings
And Riley, no hard feelings! But if you think you’re getting a baby sister or brother at my age, think again, ha ha.