pregnancy poem

I am dubious about writing poetry. It’s very difficult to get right and far to easy to get wrong, I always think. But despite this, and although I have never considered myself to be a poet or aspired to be one, I keep finding myself trying to write poetry. What’s that about, I wonder?

Anyway, with the coming of the frost recently I’ve found myself thinking about last winter when I was heavily pregnant with my now nine-month-old third-born son. I remembered that I wrote a poem trying to capture the vast uncomfortableness of my condition. So last night I found it and read it again. I grimaced. Then I tweeked it a bit and grimaced some more. Then I rewrote bits of it, grimaced, tweeked, re-wrote… and then lost all perspective.

So I thought instead of filing it away (which I am massively tempted to do) I would post it here. There’s not much point writing things if I just squirrel them away. So, without further ado, here is my slightly silly poem about late pregnancy.

 

Eight Months

I have a huge and heavy

Robust and wriggling belly.

I am anticipatory and trepidatory,

While waiting I grow weighty;

My swollen tummy ever growing,

My once-slim figure ever going,

Expanding skin now stretched so taut,

And oh, the expensive creams I’ve bought

To halt the marks and stop the itching

That heavy pregnancy’s inflicting.

 

And it’s not just that: my feet are fat.

I can’t sleep on my front or back,

In fact, I cannot sleep at all

Without a massive pillow wall

That wraps around my front and rear;

My poor old husband can’t get near!

 

And then there’s matters of the table;

Although I eat all I am able,

Dining’s losing its appeal

As I can’t have a single meal

Without a painful gas affliction

Gaviscon’s my new addiction.

 

Then when I have to go outside

I feel like someone twice as wide

And lumber slowly down the street

With painful hips and back and feet

And even this small animation

Gives me bouts of palpitations.

 

It’s been a tiring pregnancy

But soon I’ll be a mum of three

And won’t be whinging half as much

When there’s nothing in me but my guts!

 

I’m linking this up with Prose for Thought over at Verily Victoria Vocalises.

Prose for Thought

16 thoughts on “pregnancy poem

    1. Maddy Post author

      Thanks Liska. I wrote this last year – baby no. three is very much with us. Looking forward to celebrating his first christmas though!

      Reply
  1. Stephanie

    Oh this took me back! I remember that feeling. Nothing quite like it. And yes get your work out into the world. Art isn’t art until it is shared :)

    Reply
  2. Wicked World of Lucas

    This is fab – loved it. Brought back memories and loved the structure – this should accompany all new mummy handbooks – so fab #prose4t

    Reply
  3. Judith

    Haha, and are you whinging less? Or did you end up whinging more but about the exhaustion that comes with having three demanding small people to look after?? Thank you for sharing your poem, I really enjoyed reading it!

    Reply
    1. Maddy Post author

      Good question Judith… Hmm, hard to say… I definitely find it easier not being pregnant but I do whinge a lot about sleep deprivation! He’s a lovely, laid-back, happy baby but he’s still not sleeping through!

      Reply
  4. Emily Page

    Don’t know what you were worrying about. I love this. It’s well written and takes me right back to those last weeks of my pregnancy – little bugger was late too! Well done on being brave. Hope you post many more.

    Reply
  5. Verily Victoria Vocalises

    Firstly, I am certain even the best poets doubt their work. you have no need whatsoever. This is absolutely brilliant – it sums up the feeling so very completely :) I love it. Thank you so much for linking to Prose for Thought and hope to see you again x

    Reply

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