Feelings the Unnatural
A baby conceived is nothing more than the fruit of its mother's womb and the seed of its father's loin. In a mother's womb a baby is an unnatural, squirmy, annoying miracle of life.
When I was with child I wanted to runaway, but then the phenomena would still be with me. Everywhere I went those fluttering toes under my ribs, a grape fruit size budge trying to burst through my flesh. Oh how I wished for the movement to stop. When it did I prayed for my baby to start moving again.
As the fruit of my womb grew my belly expand beyond belief. Carrying that small bundle of joy is the most annoying part of having baby. The pushing and the screaming was scary, but most rewarding in the end.
Copyright © Barbara Washington | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment