The Birth Tourist. A poem.

There once was a woman from Earth

Who fell pregnant and was told she’d give birth

About 9 months they said

First comes the head

Emerging from your ample girth.

The woman was given a schedule.

Of things she was told were essential

like scans and tests

and forced bedrests

and music to boosts baby’s potential.

On a need-to-know basis they’d tell

as they covered her belly in gel

and measured and poked

Her rights felt revoked

and her ankles began to swell

The worry set in for this mum

She felt it was all a bit glum

The brochure showed bliss

Nothing like this

it left her really quite numb

And so the day came as it must

In her medical team was her trust

As they processed her labour

They did her no favour

Here is Your baby from us.

The time came again for Our Mother

She was expecting another

but this time she said

it’s my way instead

For this little sister or brother.

So she started with all her fears

That had been with her all of these years

She faced them head on

Until they were gone

Washed away with her healing tears

With the space that was clear with release

The Birth Tourist mentality ceased

And the Mother was Free

To Birth on her knees

And was now a Birth Traveller at Peace.

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