I dream of a miracle baby
That despite the Nexplonon rod in my arm
Despite the many sheets of blister packs of Birth Control pills
To control the months of heavy, sporadic bleeding
That there is this strong, miracle child
Growing in my womb
That somehow, I am not so broken.
That even despite the science at work
God's hand is forming one more little one
To grow our family.
What a hearty child that would be.
A warrior
A survivor
A thing which small words cannot begin to explain.
Even as I lie wrapped around my heating pad for the 4th day in a row
Changing pad after pad,
Each drenched in the disappointment of a room filled with undone plans.
I dream of a child I cannot control,
That comes bursting out of me, unbidden, unplanned
And totally wanted.
Wild with Life.
Filled with Love
Completing my sad story with a joyful ending
Making all the sorrow a footnote in the incredible story of their LIFE.
But all I produce
Is a stupid poem
About a baby
That will never be born.
How greedy am I?
The mother of three incredible, amazing, unfathomable children
Children I fear I disappoint daily.
Children that grow with laughter and spontaneous songs
Leaving thousands of sticky fingerprints
Dancing across my windows, my furniture, my life
Sending my head reeling with the MUCHNESS
Enough to overwhelm me constantly
And yet I mourn for the things that I cannot have back
The things I have to leave behind and stop dreaming for.
There is time for a miracle
And I hope I can experience it
And I hope that I can see it for the miracle it is
And I know that I have a miracle in each of the magical little people
That are alive and well and strong and GROWING
But every so often...
Even in the pain of womanhood, with too much going on around me,
I yearn for a miracle child.
