The Sound of Tiny FeetA deep ache in my belly, echoing through my heart
months turning into years
Older women's words to me when I was young and fertile, half joking, with their bundles of joy already pitter-pattering around their houses.
Their words echoing in my mind, sounding more cruel with each year passing
Passing 30, seeing 35 racing towards me
I crunch the percentages, the likelihood of our hopes being fulfilled.
Test the hormones, check the temperatures, charting like a mad-woman
Slowly becoming more and more sure
Feeling the betrayal of my own body.
My hopes, dreams and motherly identity withering on the altar of reality
If I cannot fulfill this dream of motherhood, of family
that I have clung to since a child
Who am I?
Poetry by SecretWords
Read 155 times
Written on 2021-11-12 at 23:36
Tags Infertility  Purpose  Identity
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