November

November.
I remember
the long days of anticipation
as I neared the end of pregnancy,
watching for any sign of labor.
November is waiting.

All the unknowns were still ahead.
How would I face the pain
of that intersection
between life and death
that is birth?
What if it all went terribly wrong?
November is fear.

But I did it.
I held on while pain washed over me
and then let go
so that she could be born.
November is surrender.

I cared for her day and night
in a fog of exhaustion.
I lived for her
and I would have died for her.
November is strong.
November endures.

November,
I remember.

By Maria Brady-Smith

Photo by Mike Smith