Labor of Love

by Cheryl Merrick

I know I love him,
     but I feel like punching him.
Could it be I have lost my sense of humor
     after 17 hours of labor?
My back aches!

His cheerful musings of how fun
it would be to have our child
     born on the 4th of July,
     or leap year,
     or Halloween,
     or being in labor on Labor day,

were only topped by his exclamation
     of how cute I was as a “lamplighter”
     as I walked around the hospital
     for a week waiting for our baby to come
     with an IV in my arm.

As the moment of birth approaches,
    his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm.
He sings, smiles, showers, and eats.
Being a bit more involved in this birth,
     my face pales, my eyes dim,
     and my jaw sets with determination,
     as I begin our labor of love.