My womb swells, finally full of life
After many years of strife.
This experience for which women weep
I’ve given much of my own grief.
For though our bodies are made to hold
Children, it is thought and told,
the secret of fertility is in its insecurity.
And mothers, we’re never sure to be
Though in my case unexpectedly
Happiness has come.
For what those who’re infertile know
Is life takes work to create and sow.
It doesn’t just happen when we plan,
But requires a lot of helping hands
To pull us up this rocky climb,
And catch us when we stumble each time.
Perhaps together we can hope to reach
Whatever lays atop this peak
And oh how we pray it’s a child’s cheek
To lay against our own.
To those still on this journey to
Motherhood, once sure and true,
who hate to feel their bitterness well
At the sight of another’s belly swell.
There’s anger, pity, crushing pain
For us who battle infertility’s shame.
If you hear of someone else’s God
who’s path you’ve clearly poorly trod,
Who’s promise you found to be a fraud,
Then Love to you my friend.
And my for you, a happy end.