POETIC PREGNANCY SERIES

Letters to My Unborn

August 3, 2006

it's almost a joke
the way we make you
so effortlessly
all we have to do
is listen closely
for your whispers
from the everywhere
into the here

but now I fear we'll jinx
you the third
with our confidence
we are masters
at being caught off guard
by the ease

the digital stick
options: pregnant or
not pregnant
I, fully expecting
a not, hand it
to you to translate
the absence of that first
word that means
the presence of you

I hoped for you
but also hoped for
more savings and more
time to devote
because I am also
an expert at making
a little stretch
to be barely enough

the things we need
for you loom
all the gadgets
and supplies we gave away
in the move
except a few tubs
of clothes
and the oak crib

I breathe in and remind
myself to breath out
take it one day at a time
do my best for us
and know that
your welcoming
is all that matters

August 4, 2006

one morning of trying
to negotiate the medical system
and I have had enough
tears and frustration and
waiting on hold

I don't know exactly
the first day
of my last period
but I can tell you
the day of conception
but it's not about
what the mother knows
it's about filling
in their blanks

August 6, 2006

How can your mind wrap
around the idea of the being
growing inside you? Even after
experiencing it two times before.

The baby experience floors, always
humbles, makes you realize
you are at the mercy
of cosmic chance

one in thousands breaks
the shell loses its tail, nestles
into the prehistoric puzzle
to multiply and multiply cells
into a person

Day trip to the beach

no one can see
the life growing inside
the flutter of heart beat
as I walk against waves
ride them in again

August 9, 2006

Being pregnant is like spraying
anti-muse repellent all over
and laying on the couch watching
daytime tv wondering if you'll
ever get up again

it take all my energy
to grow a baby

August 11, 2006

Every morning I wake up
uncertain of my own
identity and the one
forming inside of me
I feel dehydrated
disorientated almost
hungover by the hormones
coursing like yesterday's
binge of cheap dry red wine
but I am pure
as pure as someone
could be who
gives up all vices and
snacks on healthy foods
drinks lots of water
I know where this is going
but don't
I have forgotten all
the details and the over-
arching feeling of
helplessness
as the grain
of rice doubles its size
into a bean
loses its tail
concocts the scent
that I will breath in
with closed eyes
the day we finally meet

October 3, 2006

Secret

no one knows you
but I feel you
no one sees your face
but I did in last night's dream
no one will hold you
before I do
no one will love you
like I do
no one will be your mother
but me

~j.b. rowell