Sleep little baby, clean as a nut,
Your fingers uncurl and your eyes are shut.
Your life was ours, which is with you.
Go on your journey. We go too.
The bat is flying round the house
Like an umbrella turned into a mouse.
The moon is astonished and so are the sheep:
Their bells have come to send you to sleep.
Oh be our rest, our hopeful start.
Turn your head to my beating heart.
Sleep little baby, clean as a nut,
Your fingers uncurl and your eyes are shut.
John Fuller
Commentary: The first birth I ever witnessed was that of my brother, David. I was in complete awe. Shortly thereafter, I got to be my best friend’s doula when she delivered her first child, my godson, Zachary. It was an honor and a joy, some of the most fulfilling work I have ever done, and a complete miracle: the miracle of new life coming into the world through a woman’s labor and childbirth.
In the seventeen years since, I’ve had the chance to attend many other labors and deliveries, and I have never lost my sense of wonder … about pregnancy, fetal development, the powerful design of women’s bodies and their ability to give birth … about the miracle of secret communication between the baby’s body and the mother’s body during labor and delivery … about the pure joy of holding a new baby!
These days, I am thinking a lot about these things because I am serving a new mother as a doula once again. John Fuller’s poem is a perfect witness to my experience. Thank you, John, for sharing this intimate poem describing your experience as a father with your new baby … with all of us.
THE POETRY PLACE 
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