my life
is measured by the time that passes
in two week chunks
marked by hope
and a frenzy of fucking
and more hope
only to be followed by
bitter disappointment.
except when it isn't
and then,
the measure is
two days
that feel like
two years
and always, always,
the bitter disappointment
surrounds me like a hug from hell.
just once
I'd like to measure
my life
in a forty week chunk,
and give
birth
to my baby
not death.
This is a beautiful poem, not crappy in any way (referencing yourl abel). In my journey of TTC I have felt this way many times. I am thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteSending you good wishes on your birthday.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is so truthful and conveys your pain. I'm thinking of you.
Happy birthday Wifey! This poem makes me so heartbroken for you. Uhhhh....I wish there was something I could do? Anything?
ReplyDeleteThinking of you and sending you good wishes for your birthday. May this year bring you joy!
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday. It's a sad yet beautiful post here, I really hope you get that 40 week chunk and soon. I am here to support you anyway, as always.
ReplyDeletexx
Nominated you for a blog award :) Collect when you can
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure if I've ever commented on your blog ... just wanted to reach out and let you know I'm thinking of you. Beautiful post.
ReplyDeleteJust found your blog. How right you are: I would seriously like to trade this crappy 2 week clock in for a 9-month model. Seriously.
ReplyDeleteWhat an amazing poem. I feel like you and I have so much in common but I love how you don't hold back at all. You tell it like it is.
ReplyDelete