Production Line

* This week’s workshop piece from Uni. Written in 7 minutes, no editing.

She smiles benignly as she attaches the band around my wrist. It’s almost robotic, ther’s no real significance in it for her. I take back my arm and study its new addition. I am labelled, named and identified. “Yes, that’s me I sigh” my name is bold letters, followed by a number and a barcode.

Shuffled off, bags in tow we are herded like pre-schoolers on excursion; to be weighed, measured and re-dressed for ‘the procedure’. A new one grabs at my wrist; she is blonde and has blue eyes but her lanyard swings too wildly for me to read her name. She simply quotes the number on my band, checking it against a sticker on a file. “That’s you” she smiles, I feel like asking; “yes, but what’s my name?”.

To them it seems this is just another day, and I’m just another number on a list. A box to be ticked, then moved on through to the next stage in the production line. Inside I am screaming “STOP! Don’t you realise what today is? It’s his birthday!”. Soon, very soon this swollen, distended belly will be violated only to reveal the sweet and ripened fruit within.

This is not something mechanical, This is not surgical; this is flesh and blood and love and fear. I am a name, not a number, I am a life within a life. We are a family about to be. Take a second. Wait. See. Meet. Me.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Meagan
    Aug 13, 2010 @ 08:05:48

    I felt just like this too – it is so sad how birth has become so clinical and production line. You captured it perfectly! And in 7 minutes too you clever little duck. Well done you. xx


  2. Lee
    Aug 22, 2010 @ 04:57:37

    Nice piece Amelia, Childbirth is like making a BigMac.


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