Like many readers, I feel sure, I was immensely moved by Sarah (James)'s poem which related to post natal depression. The imagery taken from fairy tales was so appropriate for what can be far from the fairy tale ending to nine months of eager anticipation.

My daughter and many of her friends also suffered from this affliction and the following poem was written, and posted on the Arena, some year or so ago. I had largely forgotten about it and it was Sarah's poem which made me go back and look again.

I am glad to say that the woman concerned, my daughter's friend, is now fine. She's back cooking in the restaurant, her family thrives and all seems well.

However, when her husband suggests having another child, she's not so keen. I wonder why?

Enough preamble; here's the poem -

FOR WENDY

(For Wendy, who is suffering what motherhood sometimes unexpectedly brings

My baby lies in the cradle, pink and bubbling white.
Her bootees raised in milky exploration,
on such a peaceful night.
Her sister loves her; her father loves her;
And then there is me.

It used to be such a simple word – me.
I knew who I was, I was young, slim, pretty;
I cooked great meals in restaurant kitchens -
and raised my mother’s children as my own.
My brothers loved me; my father loved me;
And then there was me

My mother loved me too, of course, but left.
My father, he remained , three brothers too,
Four tall, snivelling, footee-mad oafs, and me.
Who knew that birthing pains remain? Did she who
bore me know what I now know? That they can never be erased
but needs must be escaped.

Because … who will wrap the blanket round my shoulders, and
let me cry or feed me comfort soft?
Who will soothe this drip-nosed, teary mother tonight?
My mother loved me long ago, and left,
as I love them – perhaps I too must go.

Am I made from a more solid mould,
more iron fibre clad and so less weak?
Milly waves one cot-bound hand in answer.
She waves to me.
She loves me, Mally loves me, Milly loves me, my man loves me
and now I know that I must love myself.