By the time I got to the hospital,
with barely any centimetres,
I was already screaming.
Screaming.
Now help me.
What have I done?
Nobody helped me.
I held my breath.
I was prodded.
I was pushed.
I was shoved.
I was carried.
So much was going on around me.
My neurodiverse brain had no idea what was happening.
I tried to listen.
I tried to be focused.
I tried to be anywhere but in the room.
I was above myself, looking down.
They suggested an epidural —
I wasn’t coping well.
I wouldn’t breathe.
“Breathe, breathe,” they said.
Then they said,
“Let’s move her.
She’s frightening the others.
She’s 18.
She’ll just push that baby out.
It’ll be fine.
Youth on her side”

Comments
Post a Comment