Pushing For Texas Poem by Betty Bleen

Before the actual birth, I tried to convince myself
there could be no room for fear. That in fact, the
only way I was going to get through this and come
out smelling like a rose was to keep my wits about
me, focus on my breathing and counting, and to
push when I felt the need to push.

When the labor pains worsened I forgot all prior
convincing, edging out of that window to stand on
the ledge of fear-trying to push this baby through
the birth canal was like trying to push a blimp
through the Washburn Tunnel. All the preparatory
lessons flew off that ledge like birds into the wind.

As the sun rose over Houston, the rays of dawn
crept through the hospital blinds, bringing with
them the first cry of my nine pound, four ounce
son, affirming that old adage that everything is
bigger in Texas; and as my eyes lit on the dozen
yellow roses you had sent me, the thought that
if I was going to come out of this smelling like a
rose, the yellow rose of Texas was the one I'd
want to be.