We all celebrate our birthdays.
But do we celebrate the women who were there too?
The Birthing Day
Mothers recall it very well
The pain, the joy, the feel, the smell
Of all the times when they gave birth
And received a child (and lost their girth).
So much joy from a day of hell:
The need to push. Or not. Or yell.
Rewarded more than they can tell.
When nightfall drapes across the earth,
On the date that this blessing fell
Drinks and cakes weave a sticky spell.
The child delights in all the mirth
And milks the day for all its worth.
Watching with a pride that none can quell,
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012