Baby Linda Elenita
by
Elena Díaz Björkquist
Niña chiquitita, Linda Elenita,
My first great-granddaughter,
Forced too soon from
Your mother’s protective womb.
Tiny little warrior, struggling,
Fighting to win the battle
To survive, to grow,
To go home.
Enclosed in a quilt covered
Plexiglas bubble simulating
Your mother’s womb,
You sleep unaware.
A hard plastic ring
Encircles your tiny finger
Measuring, recording
Your vital signs.
A flexible canula inserted
Into your tiny nostrils,
Delivers life saving oxygen
To lungs not yet functioning.
A feeding tube delivers
Mother’s milk
Directly into your
Doll-sized stomach.
Do you hear the constant
Beep, beep of machines
Monitoring you
And your fellow preemies?
Do you hear the gentle
Murmurs of parents standing
Beside man-made wombs
Of elfin infants?
Do you hear us,
Your family
Whispering words of love,
Encouragement?
Voyeurs, we stand in awe
Of miracles of modern medicine,
Privileged to view a baby
Grow to term in an artificial womb.
You open and close your hands,
Hiccup, stretch, sigh,
Make mewing sounds
Of a newborn kitten.
Mesmerized, we see and hear
Your sounds and movements,
Realize you should be in the dark,
Rich, nutrients of your mother’s womb.
As we stand next to the plastic
Womb that keeps you alive,
Allows you to develop to full term,
We feel helpless.
All we can do is hope
And pray for your survival
And a normal,
Healthy life ahead.
Baby Linda Elenita,
You’ve given us the privilege
Of seeing the strength of
The human will to survive.
