Friday, August 11, 2006


*more horrible uterine poetry...


I remember waiting to meet you.
Not because I knew what you would mean.
Because I wanted in on the secret.

You arrived one day while I was in school, and I was terrified to meet you.
When I got home from school, I called my Mom.
She was mad.

I was 15.
You didn't show up again until I was 16, and then you arrived every monthly.
Most of the time causing a scene.

Making me hurt, or naseaus, causing pain from my knees on up.
You know, I just wanted to meet you.
I couldn't wait for your arrival.

After we met, it seemed like we just could not get along.
Maybe you got the wrong girl?
Is that possible?

Some of my friends, would meet theirs and barely notice.
While some of us, would double over in pain.
Lying in bed with heating pads, going to the Dr. only to hear they were crazy.

I will say this, you managed to house and protect my babies beautifully.
There were those months we got a long just keenly.
Even if I puked through some of it.

You showed up on the days I wanted to wear white pants.
My wedding day.
When I traveled.

You were bold.
So, it seems to go without saying I will miss you, just a bit.
I thank you for allowing me in on the secret.

You did your job.
Thanks for your help.
I will miss you.

1 comment:

Sue said...

I love this! It could be my story too, well, except for the babies and the wedding day!

I go for my ultrasound on Monday in the beginning quest of diagnosis of the similar. At the moment, we're at the running record of Aunt Flo visiting ongoing for 10 weeks now. She has certainly outstayed her welcome!

Take care!