This is not how I
imagined
trying to
conceive.
I had the same loving
dreams
that most young women
weave
Yet, here I am laying
back
in a faded cotton
cover
A doctor stands between my
thighs
where you should be, my
lover
Life’s liquid in a
catheter
inserted in my womb
We hope that one will implant
and life will start to bloom
inserted in my womb
We hope that one will implant
and life will start to bloom
You hold my slightly trembling
hand
and softly stoke my hair
The doctor does all he can do
and we add a little prayer
I never doubt it’s worth it
but I often wonder why
What comes to others easily
so often makes me cry
I lay here on the table
for my 30 minute wait
and dream of steamy interludes
where we procreate
and softly stoke my hair
The doctor does all he can do
and we add a little prayer
I never doubt it’s worth it
but I often wonder why
What comes to others easily
so often makes me cry
I lay here on the table
for my 30 minute wait
and dream of steamy interludes
where we procreate
I mourn the loss of
afterglow
wrapped up in your
embrace
The wonder of believing
love
is all you need for
grace
The two week wait
begins
as we walk out the
door
and we’re filled with hope ~ but
worried
that we’ll be back for
more
I hate that it’s so
clinical
when I wanted sweet
romance
So hold my hand and kiss
me
and lead me in a
dance.
And I will close my eyes real
tight
as truth; I fervently
declare
“Our child will be a
testament
To the love we
share.”
By Patricia Gibson-Williams
