Beautiful Tiny Baby Poem by Miriam Hurdle

Seven months of being pregnant,
driving from California to Oregon
for a Christmas family gathering.
"Take breaks more often, " Doctor said.

Still, it was 1,000 miles in distance.
When we arrived, I started the contractions,
went to the hospital in Salem.
"We have no equipment to care for
premature babies." Doctor said.

An ambulance took me,
traveled one hour to Portland.
I was holding my baby tight,
praying, telling her, "I love you, "
all the way.

We arrived at the hospital safe and sound,
the contractions seemed to quiet down.
I had a belt on my belly strapped around
to monitor the frequency of contraction.

Not long after I had dinner,
the monitor beeped a warning sound.
Yes, my daughter wanted to come around.
A caesarean section was in order.

"An experimental drug could be
injected into your spinal cord
to mature the baby's lungs, so
she could breathe on her own;
the effect on you is unknown." Doctor said.

Without hesitation, I wanted the injection.
It turned out to be a sound decision.
Baby Mercy only needed twelve hours of
respiratory help.

She was tiny and beautiful.
I had her in my arms.
Her eyes followed mine.
My baby had the angel's guide.

Her birth was years ago,
the vivid memory never gets old.
She started with her tiny feet,
her steps have been directed by
the heavenly Father's lead.

Miriam Hurdle
© 2017.03.15