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 it will find the egg
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 15 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.”
Patricia Gibson-Williams
December 27, 2004
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