A Poem

November 22, 2010

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 

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 

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