Pamphlet on Postpartum Recovery

It’s normal to bleed

And bleed and bleed.

It’s normal to haemorrhage

A couple of golf balls -

Even a tennis ball-sized clot

Is normal.

Anything bigger – bowling ball, basketball

Dial 111, tell them you’ve just had a baby.

It’s normal for your nipples to rip -

Not pleasant, but normal.

It’s normal to weep, it’s normal to pass out,

Unlucky if you’re on the bus,

Or holding a cup of tea,

Unlucky, but normal.

It’s normal for your teeth to turn to milk,

For your insides to come out.

It’s normal to sweat, to stink,

To shed. It’s normal to pick clumps

Of yourself out of the drain.

It’s normal to lose sleep, to lose track,

To lose your grip. Normal to hate your dog,

Your husband, strangers in the supermarket.

Very normal to fantasise about killing

Your father-in-law, your health visitor, yourself.

It’s normal to wonder if this is normal.

It’s perfectly normal to question why

This is normal, whether normal is

Tolerable, survivable, inevitable. To note

When reassuring becomes ignoring

Becomes enforcing normal, aborting

Other words in the mouths of all

Those metamorphing mums.

Keeping mum

Guessing how far

‘Normal’ will stretch

Before it tears, before it snaps

If you say fucking normal

One more fucking time

I’ll –

I’ll –