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I Love MY Baby The Most

by lizzi (follow)
Helping plant the seeds of positive birth. www.sproutbirthing.com.au
Mothering (64)     
I love my baby, yes I do, more than anything on earth
But others claim to love him more because of my choices of birth
Who love’s my baby more than me,
Well well, let’s just see.
First there is the midwife unable to sleep all week
So afraid my baby would die, no she did not misspeak.
Then the other midwife so concerned about how the staff would deal
“If your baby dies, how do you think that all of us will feel?”
Then there was that OB who tried so hard to coerce
“You must not want your baby to live” could this day get any worse?
How hard it is for me to convince these people I love my baby yes I do
I love my baby oh so much, so much more than you!

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Then there was my partner, pregnancy is hard on him you see
So “let’s induce and increase the risk so it can all be over for me”.
Then there was my mother, “just do what the doctor said”
I am suddenly filled with a feeling very much like dread.
I am alone and oh so scared, I matter too don’t you know
“Actually you don’t” so that’s how this is going to go.
Those lovely friends who all mean well
Fight harder they all yell
You’re one tough mumma, you are strong
But this constant fighting just feels wrong.
Then the other crowd chime in, why wouldn’t you induce?
It really is no big deal you silly little goose.
All these people who know best and think they really care
More about this precious baby than his mumma bear.
But I’m the one who imagined how this little being would enter into my life
And every time they tell me the way it’s like they twist the knife.
My babies have been a part of me, since the beginning of time
Since long before we met them, I knew that they were mine.
They have grown inside of me, a part of my own soul
If they were not with us I know that I would not be whole.
Yet for all that I love them, how much that I adore
All these other people claim that they love them more.
Yet I’m the one who’s raising them, the one who spends her days
Feeding, loving, caring in the most ordinary of ways.
I don’t get the credit for the decisions that I made
I don’t get the glory, but this is what I trade.
Every day I remember how their “care” caused us so much trauma
But I know that they can never love them more than me, because I am their mama.

Wikimedia Commons

More personal poetry from me:

Why I'm joining the birthing revolution

The vessel

Just one day

Happy birthday to my best girl ever

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