Shiloh was gargantuan immense in loin and girth, So betting on high numbers was the form before their birth, Lucy was the opposite, petite and lithe and fine, Designer bump accessory – tres chic and so divine! Two nights before the main event I thought I’d sleep down stairs, But wished I’d chose a better bed than one pumped up by air, Not much sleep was gained that night, nor in the evening after, My newly purchased “Z” bed was a dreamless night’s disaster! Any thought of sleep was gone as we approached the third, As Shiloh’s first stage labour proved protracted and absurd,


She huffed and puffed she groaned and growled, She paddled and she panted, If looks could kill, I’d fit the bill – her love for me recanted, When thirty hours from the start, contractions upped a scale, And finally a bloody sac emerged beneath her tail, My buxom blonde, my platinum rose, my gutsy peachy pearl, Had whelped in text book harmony a perfect baby girl!


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