Just about this time fourteen years ago, I was lying on our bathroom floor, babbling that I wanted to pet my beloved animal familiar, my black cat named Banshee.
I’d given birth four hours before, and when I got up for the first time, I began bleeding.
Badly.
Soon, my mother and my best friend were massaging my womb while my husband held the baby and called the midwife. I just remember locking eyes with Banshee, feeling like I belonged in her world, not this human realm where everyone moved too fast and spoke too loud.
Alice, the midwife, soon appeared with a magic syringe that would stop the bleeding. That injection probably saved my life.
Four years later when I gave birth at home again, the midwives stayed for hours and hours and left a syringe of Methergine taped to the bathroom mirror just in case the unthinkable happened again.
But the story above isn’t about those desperate details. It’s the poetic prose of young mother who was so terrific…
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