I can’t remember hearing the dawn chorus

When I woke up in pain that day.

Or if the sun was shining through the threadbare curtainsl

I can’t remember the colour of the

Blood soaked bath towel I held between my legs

Or how much mess I’d made in our second-hand bed.

I can’t remember the slam of the rusty car doors

When we drove to the old hospital site;

Or how many traffic lights made us stop.

I can’t remember the name of the midwife

Who told me it would be alright

Or how I managed to climb onto the hospital bed

I can’t remember how many doctors were called

In to watch your untimely birth

Or their faces as they saw you silently slip from my womb.

I can’t remember how long I had to wait

Until your brother followed your slippery path

Or the pattern of the blanket, they wrapped you in.

I can’t remember how long I lay there alone

As they whisked his limp pink body away.

Or how many new born cries I heard from other rooms.

I can’t remember how I got to the special baby unit,

To see him through unforgiving glass;

His raging body full of wires.

Or who placed your brother in my arms to slowly die.

I can’t remember when the night reclaimed that day

How I must have moved through the treacle of time.

Or how I walked back into our home, without

You both, in my arms.

For Amy and Carter Young-Brooksby born and died 12th September, 1994