Fee's World

A little poem just came into my head about having a baby who isn’t born healthy.

When a baby is born, it’s a celebration;
Time for smiling, crying, full of elation.

But when baby’s born poorly, things go unsaid;
People scared to send cards in case baby’s dead.

The smiles are still there, laughter at best;
Baby’s not where they should be, at Mama’s breast;

Worry and wonder at what’s going to be;
Replace passing round baby from knee to knee.

Day after day we long for a cuddle;
Head spinning round in a medical muddle.

But then that day comes when the medicals say,
“we’re taking baby out of the incubator today”.

A long week has passed but at last the day’s here,
In my arms I hold baby, ever so near.

I breathe in your smell, I hold you so tight;
Never want to let go through day and through night.

But we have to go home, leave you there in that cot;
Nurses care for you, sure, but Mama they’re not.

Then that day comes when it’s time to come home;
No more lying on that cot alone.

You’ll need extra care, our road still not certain,
But finally our house is full of smiles and elation.