JANUARY 1957
JANUARY 1957
When the pains get bad
and close together
Mama sends Lewis over to Lovings’—
not for Richard—
for Mrs. Loving.
Lola Loving comes right over.
Mama is already boiling water.
I’m in the downstairs bed
on an old sheet and towels
that have been boiled
many times
for many births.
Lola says,
“Push, Honey.
You’re doin’ real good,”
over and over.
I’m crying
and Lola is saying,
“The baby’s coming.
Push, Honey.
You’re doin’ good.”
Good?
I’m doing good?
What is good?
My mama sets behind me
propping up my back.
“The baby is coming.
Push.”
The baby is here.
Lola puts the baby
on my belly.
And my mama
lets me lie back.
I cry.
Everyone cries.
Lola says,
“You did real good,
Millie. You’re
the right age
to have a baby.”
Young.
She trying to make me
feel better?
“That was an easy
labor,”
she says.
He’s a wrinkled little guy—
looks like a little old man—
a Sidney.
I name him
Sidney Clay—
he’s beautiful.
I love him.