Laura Rimmer




My First-Born

When my first-born was formed in my womb,
she called up to me for seven long weeks
but I didn’t listen

’til the tiredness brought me down.
Four tests I took, unseeing each pair of parallel lines,
’til I was eating wine gums

for breakfast, dinner, and tea.
She danced a jig for my birthday,
and when I was building her cot –

eight months gone – she cheered me on,
even as I struggled to keep it together.
We watched Doctors

curled up in the sun, settling into each other,
so much so she extended her stay by twelve days.
She was sucked out of me, this limpet,

blue-lipped from the tightly-wound cord,
and the paediatrician said, ‘You were lucky.’
She studied my face,

her velvet head bloodied and smelling of home,
and I studied her face for the first time.
My stomach was slack

and I felt like I’d lost her, but here she was, winking at me.
So I took her home to watch Doctors,
and then we curled up in the sun.



Laura Rimmer was born in Liverpool but now lives in rural Scotland where she works as a writer, editor, and women’s sector volunteer. She has a Master’s in scriptwriting. She is published in the forthcoming Southlight magazine. She tweets @laurarimmer.

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