Here is a poem I wrote and printed in up on really nice paper and put in a frame and gave to my midwife.
They have many different faces but their names are all the same.
They don’t do it for the pay. What pay? She’s barely making it on her best day.
Husbands come and go, because they just don't understand. "It’s not just a name", she says "It’s who I am".
Children all have grown while she was off holding someone else’s hand.
The sacrifice was great but she can’t help it you see, God Himself made her this way to help you and me.
First, middle and last……. Midwife……. that’s her name.
I signed it.........
First my midwife,
Now my friend,