It sits at the top of your forehead
A thumb print of scar tissue
Barely there except when I brush back your hair or the sun darkens your skin.
Indenting slightly your skull
A reminder of the violent pull and push of contractions and forceps.
It was a reddish half moon once,
when you were newer than you are now,
I touched it like a talisman during night feeds and precarious naps,
It’s slowly fading, never quite gone.
Your birthmark, your ticket to ride
Safely out of womb world and into my arms.
Sjanneke Farrell is a London born poet, based in Cornwall, UK. She is a teacher, writer and mother to two small children. She is currently working on her first collection of poetry. You can read more of Sjanneke Farrell's poetry on her Instagram @moederandmaker www.instagram.com/moederandmaker/
About this poem
"I wrote this in the throes of early motherhood, when my daughter was tiny. We had a forceps delivery and the recovery time for both of us was long and hard. This poem is a way of expressing how thankful I was that we both made it through those early days and came out the other end relatively unscathed!"