Midnite Angel's Haven

Poems for the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit)

This was a long and difficult time for me. I had a miscarriage a year before, and now had just delivered twins at only 26 weeks. A son and a daughter. God took my daughter after only 16 hours, and my son was in the hospital for 4 months. These poems somehow seemed to help me cope and keep me sane...


High-Tech Birth


No lusty birthcry
No "oohs" and "ahs" from estatic onlookers
No wet suckling infant
No deluge of joyful tears.

Only deathly quiet...
while numerous hands and rapid minds
work together as one.

A skillful team gathered around a gray
stainless steel table.

A tiny blue motionless baby which is
hovering between the here-now and
the here-after.

A blur of unearthly green scrub suits
with rubber-gloved hands
are forcibly and adeptly
altering the thundering
course of fate --

and in some remote way,
becoming gods for the moment.



Newborn Intensive Care

Four hours ago, life for you was
all darkness, and warmth and wetness.
(What happened?)
In here, the lights are so bright
you can't even open your eyes.

Loud, buzzing,irritating machine sounds
race through your tiny ears
brutally replacing my comforting,
steady heartbeat and the familiar
swishing of amniotic fluid.

There is something down your throats
pushing air into lungs that are not
willing to breathe.
Strangers are handling and prodding.
(Where is my twin? Where is my mother?)

Someone in black is mumbling religious
cantor and making watery marks on your
foreheads.

We know it would be so easy to let
go of life --
But don't do it, Babies!
Don't do and die on us.
We've come too far just to get to this day.
(Keep beating heart.)

Every hour, every day
is bringing you closer to the joy
and security and love of your family.
(Who?)
We're the two nervous people hovering
outside your sterile, plastic houses...
waiting and crying and praying for you.






Afraid


I timidly peek into your hot house
Afraid of what I might see.
Afraid of what I might not.

You look so teeny, helpless...
almost hopeless.
That fragile,paper-white body struggles
pathectically just to hold onto life.
The miniature chest heaves to the set rhythm of your respirator.

Instead of looking bright and new --
you wear a winkled,drawn mask
like an old,tired,wornout man.

Every so often you pry your eyes open.
Your stare is icy blue,vacant,distant.

I'm so afraid!
Afraid to bond.
Afraid to love.
Afraid to lose.






Bonded
This visit has left me drained.
Wordlessly, I wonder if you're
even remotely aware of my presense.

As I turn to leave
your frail, transparent fingers
curl firmly around mine
and then mine around yours.

And in that intense moment in time
we are one.

I am yours
and you are mine
forever.



Damien was born on Oct 24th, but I didn't get to hold him for the first time until Dec 30th. Hence, the...

First Embrace

I reached out shakey,achey arms.
She gently slid you into my hands.
In disbelief, I groped for fleeting confidence --
for just the right thoughts and words.

You gurgled and spit contentedly
as your ear caught my heart tones.
Through my sterile yellow gown
my mother's scent taunted your nose
making you wiggle with the rare nostalgic essence.

So richly you pacified my need to be needed
by moaning a high note of dismay
when our ten minutes together were over.
Jealously, she retrieved her charge
and tucked you expertly into your hot bed.

Do you like me, Honey?
Would you like to keep me?
I'm yours without even a song.
My little one, please love me back a little.





Baby Snatcher

He came again last night.
The Baby Snatcher.
Greedily, he sucked the wind
from two tiny unfortunates
then ground the minute hearts
into devastating halts.

Just two plastic houses down
and one across the aisle.
Snatched.

Perhaps if I hang a crucifix
on the outside of the Isolette,
he'll ignore mine.

Or maybe if I paid the bill.

I wonder if those parents pray
as hard as I do?

Regardlessly, he moves through
the Intensive Care Unit
playing heady games with some
and snuffing the very life
out of others.

He has already taken my little girl,
Just don't expect me to offer
up another sacrificial lamb.






Mother Nurse

Don't you see this child is mine?
No, he is not a product of
that loud, laboring incubator.
I birthed him.
You mother him

Surely, his birth certificate
is not your title of ownership.
It is I who made the ultimate sacrifice--
the grand investment of body and soul.
I, who have all the rights.
Yet, I feel the intruder in your
private love affair with my child.

I become clumsy and inept
whenever I'm near him,
while your practiced, perfect presense
maternally guards him from harm.
Guards him from me.

Surely you can love him a little less
for my sake.






Too Many Days

Too many days already
too many more to come.

Forehead pressed upon plastic,
arms threaded through portholes,
while hands rytmically convey
love and hope.
My eyes mist over envisioning
this unmotherly scene.

Too many days already--
too many more to come.

At your side keeping vigil
in this space-age atmosphere
while a whole big world
of mothers and babes
nestle together heart upon heart.

Too many days already--
too many more to come.

Feeling cheated and simply deflated
I toss off my sterile gown
and with the heaviest of hearts
I whisper
"Goodnight, my tiny one."






To My Little Boy

Oh little boy with the elfen grin.
Does this new world amuse you so?

Do our worried, questioning faces
peaking through your portholes
make you just want to giggle?

How humrous your docs and nurses
must seem
decked out in their silly green masks
and flowered caps!

And how generously you reward their
earnest efforts
with one of your impish smiles.

Oh litte boy with the elfen grin.
Share a bit of your gaiety with me
for I'm finding it hard to smile
these days
except when you tickle my fancy.






When?

When can he come home?
"What?"
Come home...today?
"No, not today."
Next week?
"Don't know"
Who knows, dammit! Who knows?
"Don't know who knows."
I pay a grand a day and that includes answers!
"Does it?"
Just be a pal--tell me when. Just a hint.
"Soon. Now go have a coke."
Gee, thanks.






Home In Sight

Like a long-distance runner
tired,sweaty,delpeted
we are nearing the finish line. I can almost smell the refreshing
scent of success.
Almost feel m aching frazzled mind
and muscles relax.
Almost picture the trophy in my hand.
Almost hear the wild cheers and clapping.
Almost taste the salty tears
that flood down my face.

ANd like the long-distance runner
whose finish tape is nearly grabable
we are finally bursting through
this damn depressing hospital
red tape.






Thank You

How do we say "thank you"?
It's not as if just a little
good deed was done or
a bithday present received.

"Thank you" seems hollow,simple,
not enough.

Instead of lonely years
of painful tears
of aching hearts
of grief and separation --

You have given us back a lifetime
of needy tears and soothings
of hearts fulfilled and prideful
of a whole new generation.

We come before you
hands extended
Babe held close
speech forgotten
and all we can utter is "thank you".

The music you are listening to is Yanni -- Almost a Whisper.

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