Placenta Under Pressure

by Catherine Lyons

We count in pressures, plot in graphs,

Scan the curves of protein paths.

She’s thirty-two and holding tight—

BP spiked again last night.

Spiral arteries should widen wide,

Let blood flow in, let life reside.

But shallow roots and narrow tracks—

The placenta whispers, fighting back.

Growth scan flagged at twenty-eight—

AC's lagging, estimate’s late.

Placenta’s edge looks thin, unsure—

A fragile gate, a silenced door.

“Headache?” — Yes. “Flashes?”— More.

Mag up. Admit. And close the door.

Pree creeps in on quiet feet,

A thief of time, a rising heat.

The EMR blinks red with flags,

Protein climbs, hemoglobin lags.

140/90 is the line—

And every number feels a sign.

NSTs in week thirty-two,

Each jagged wave a hidden clue.

We hold our breath, adjust the flow—

How much longer? We don’t know.

The pressure’s more than just the kind

That cuffs and sphygs are built to find.

It’s holding space in fear and doubt—

And hoping something holds it out.

But oh, the joy when all goes well—

A cry, a breath, a softened swell.

And in that sound, a sweet release—

A fleeting, fragile kind of peace.