It’s Not Baby Fever


The want to have a child,
Having a fear you can not carry one,
Is almost unbearable.
The want to have a child,
But knowing they'll say "you're not ready,"
Is like stabbing me in the chest.
Knowing he does not feel the same,
Is heartbreaking.

No, this is not "baby fever,"
This is not seeing a cute baby and saying
"Well, now I want one."
This is seeing explosive diapers,
This is knowing that they keep you up at night,
This is worrying about if I am a good mom,
This is me, knowing that others think that a child
"Distracts you and takes up your time" or
"Kids ruin your life, you'll never have a day off."

I want to change my babies explosive diapers,
Probably almost puking in doing so.
I want to have baby spit up on my brand new shirt.
I want to wake up at 3 am for feedings.
I want to open my heart to another human,
One who is a part of him and me.
A little person who will call me "mommy."

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