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