With the suggestion of the possibility that I might be with child,
I protect my stomach from all injury no matter how mild,
I think he suspects, of what I might be carrying inside,
Feeling unready he pokes and jabs with hidden smiles.
Acting as if i don't know his intent.
My arms cover the 'playful' blows,
But if I am with child, neither of us knows.
Aunt Flo didn't miss her visit,
That comes with every moon,
we always use protection,
That's a life long rule,
But somehow there always is a chance,
There is always a chance.
I'm cravings things sweet and sometimes salty,
my moods will swing, with barely any prompting,
Im getting naseus and the dizziness wont go,
The backaches are another thing that has to go,
Im losing all my appetite, and yet i can't wait to eat,
Im stressing and im wondering,
What it would be like to actually be a mommy.
I've been Aunt Jay for two years this past fall,
And now my sisters working on her second babe,
I wonder if her steps I'll follow.
I cradle my small tummy,
And wonder at the prospect,
Could i have a little angel,
That's relying on my conscious.