mother – wabi sabi ~~~ poems and images

It is evening and I have been in labor off and on for 24 hours. But it is also Thanksgiving Day and the doctor advises me to get some rest and call him in the morning. Unless my water breaks or the contractions become more regular and intense, I will not be delivering my baby today. So I wait, trying to rest between contractions. I sit in a large wing chair, legs folded in front of me, like a huge Buddha, staring at the painting which hangs on the wall. It is a picture of Paris at night and I wonder what it would be like to visit that city. Soon I am bored with the painting and I close my eyes for a minute or two.

gentle ocean waves
lap against the shore
moon time

I decide to pray while I wait for this little one to make an entrance. I am too tired to look for my rosary beads and use my fingers instead. It is soothing to repeat the familiar words and it does not escape me that I am praying to the mother of all mothers, Mary. I think for awhile about what her labor must have been like. The long ride on a donkey, and then no place to sleep for the night, she ends up in a stable with the animals, and then her labor begins. She is alone except for her spouse, who must have delivered the baby. I am grateful for a warm, clean house and a spouse (in spite of the fact that he is snoring at the moment)

breath prayer
a quiet bell rings
in the distance

I put my hands over my belly as if to touch the child within me, the child who will soon leave me. Will I have a son or a daughter? I try each one on for size, imagining myself holding first, a son, then a daughter. Soon I am cooing and whispering softly to the child within me. I don’t ask it any questions or worry about who he or she will be. I savor these last few hours of our oneness. The contractions keep coming but not forcefully or frequently enough to progress my labor, arriving just often enough to interrupt any real rest.

windy day
a child hangs on
to the kite string

So it comes to this. All through the dark night I learn about waiting. Dozing, walking, lamaze, hail Mary, dozing, walking, lamaze, hail Mary, waiting. It is a long night. When morning comes, I see the doctor and he admits me to the hospital where they use drugs to jump start my labor. Still more waiting. It becomes harder to think of anything except pushing the baby out into the world. I go inside myself to find the strength to do that and finally, the baby arrives. She tucks herself into the crook of my arm as though she has always been there and I then wait for her to wake up.

silent night
the kitchen feels so warm
after a long walk

Haibun Journal Issue 2:1

Spring 2020