Thursday, May 23, 2013

Little Flicker

By Laurie Epps

I am dedicating the month of May to the unsung mothers out there.

Any woman who has been pregnant after 1992, has experienced the miracle of seeing their precious baby on the screen of the ultrasound sound machine. For most, this is a joyous occasion. But this poem is about when something goes wrong, and terribly wrong. In those quiet moments in a sterile hospital environment, panic sets in, and the mother's anxiety is both maddening and deafening. I attempted to capture those brief moments of sheer desperation.

Little Flicker
By Laurie Epps

You were my most photogenic child
Beautiful baby, I love you
We set up your nursery
And bought you fairy tale pajama’s
With dragons and castles on them
Carefully we named you Megan
You were always rolling over
As if bad dreams had come over you
We would try to guess what babies dreamed
And laughed at how I craved Cheetos
I went to the doctor to get a
New picture of you with your sister
Anxiously looking for flickers
Of light that were your precious heartbeats
Frantically the tech and the doctor
Searched for that little glimmer of life
For 5 hours, they jockeyed around
In my uterus hoping for that
Little flicker and did not find it
I knew instinctively you were gone
Your sister did not know it yet though
Part of me died too taking my breath
When the doctor announced your demise
Your sister broke down into sorrow
Her mournful cries now a part of me

Please remember the moms and dads that lost a child to miscarriage, still birth, or other untimely death this month. I lift up a prayer for you all.

Laurie Epps is a non-fiction author, essayist, editor, and poet living in Anderson, South Carolina. A seeker of beauty, her is dream is to travel the world one day and tell the many stories of those she meets. To read more of Laurie's stories come back here for her column about Poetry on Thursdays, or follow her Tuesday column dedicated to writing on:

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