Dear BASTARD (warning: “Poetry”)

Dear bastard


I met you at 10 weeks

You buggered up my sleep

You were only 7 mls

You made us freak and weep.


I thought you’d just fuck off then

But encores were your game

You fucking woke me up again

You didn’t have a name.


11 weeks, you’d put on weight

Though gumby’s heart still beat

At 20 ml I hated you

You swept me off my feet.


But in the absence of applause

You thought you’d take a bow

And show up with might, so deep and bright

We thought “well we’re fucked now”


12 weeks and you said “fuck it!

This bed rest is a crime!

I’m back you bitch so face it

It’s blood clot party time”


And so I named you BASTARD

And I took your name in vain

My attention was diverted

By the placental biopsy game.


They said you’d put on weight again

(And it didn’t suit your face)

You stupid 60 ml BASTARD

Give me some mental space.


And then you just got tired

You attention seeking whore

And whilst you sometimes threatened

You spot, but bled no more.


Today at 16 and a bit weeks

You failed to say cheese

As he tried to take your photo

As he hunted, I said please


I said “please, can you fuck off now?”

And someone heard our prayer

There was no freakin sign of you

We looked, you were not there.


So BASTARD, no hard feelings

But we’re delighted you have gone

We’re back in bed, you left our head

And Gumby? Carries on.