The baby, softly breathing on my chest
offers me his fuzzy scalp to kiss.
His warmth is on my belly
his lips against my breast.
He’s ready to embrace.

Strapped on firmly as I work and walk and rest
my baby, softly sleeping, fills my abyss.
He’s heavy on my body
but easy on my heart.
He’s ready to embrace.
He’s my emblem of peace.

(First published in An Endless Afternoon)

Callan is born

Callan has dimpled hands
chubby arms and legs
fluffy brown hair
Daddy’s eyes and Daddy’s strong neck.

Five days ago…

Opening myself for him to be born was one of the hardest things I have done and yet…it was easy…no it wasn’t! It was like acid and like a knife as Callan slowly split me. So strange: I could have not done it. I could have held back, held him in. The doctor had to ask me. ‘Push’, he said. But it wasn’t like pushing. It was like opening myself. I was surprised. It hurt, but I did it anyway.


The doctor said, ‘Open your eyes and have a look’.

A glimpse of baby, then they took it away across the room. I said, ‘I have to yell a bit’, and hollered for a few seconds to let out all the yells I had not yelled during the pain.

Then the baby was in my arms, wrapped in a warm towel, crying. I said ‘Hello’.

I said, ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’

‘A boy’.

‘Hello, Callan’, I said, and kissed his forehead. So soft.

(First published in An Endless Afternoon)