Now, I lie beside the bed,
on the floor, belly bulging with babies
not my own. On this day of past dying,
my cat is giving her gift of birth
to me, to the world. Her contractions
are my past contractions, coming faster.
Her mewls of pain are my moans of pain,
caught in her Maine Coon vocals.
Her eyes rarely leave mine; accusing,
beseeching, imploring, hurtful…
I talk to her softly, tell her the pain is worth it,
to have babies. She speaks of blaseness,
which she’s lost. I tell her I know,
losing control is normal, though unpleasant.
Mew all you want. And an hour passes…
She gets a couple minutes rest,
I write. There she goes, where’s my flashlight?
She grunts, low, reaches to lick
her essence, enriched and seeded.
I have to pee, but I can’t leave.
The stronger her clenching contractions,
the stronger my need to pee, and give birth…
Only minutes away, and I wonder
what color this firstborn will be.
Last time, it was white, looked
like a pink rat-cat. I can see
her back legs trembling uncontrollably,
and I remember that feeling.
The phone rings, I have to leave the room,
I finish the call, pee, and go back…
and she’s had it! I think it’s black,
but closer ; it’s a toirtie, like her!
Beautiful in its dampness, its blood.
Still attached to the depths of its mother,
the babe begins to suckle…
I am laughing, weeping, and totally
immersed in the pulse of life.
I feel I’ve been given a miracle…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 9/11/04

I lost my flashlight... But, I can see clearly enough to view two and three, semi-mirror images of the firstborn.

Number four ... an embryonic one inch pink nothing-that-could-have-been. A shock. And as I cringed towards the bed, my eyes closed, I heard the mother eat that maybe-being...

So, three for four, so far.