Maybe Baby

Since I don’t have the “normal” luxury of saying things like, “we’re having a baby” or “my due date is xxx” or “Gabriel is going to be a big brother again,” there are a lot of “maybe“s and “if“s and “we’ll see“s in my conversations these days.
This reminded me of a poem I wrote when I was pregnant with my little boy, Hosanna, last fall. I don’t know if I ever shared it here or not. I can’t remember. But it feels true again even now. I find myself somewhere in the middle of this poem currently. Knowing that today this baby is alive ~ what an incredible, surprising, stunning thing! One we will never ever take for granted.
But there is still the “maybe” factor, even if it is only because of my history. While Number Nine has given us zero indication that he/she will head to heaven anytime soon, there is always that question for us. There is always the qualifier of “maybe.”
So here I share with you the poem I wrote called “Maybe Baby.”

Maybe Baby
by MJC, October 2010

This might be the month
When I will conceive you in my womb.
Or just as likely, this might not be.
But I cling to the hope of that tiny chance.
Maybe, baby; just maybe.

This two week wait feels endless
As I wait to find out the truth.
Are you there? Are you created?
Or will we begin this circle all over again?
Maybe, baby; just maybe.

I thought I saw two pink lines
But now I just can’t tell.
Going cross-eyed staring at the test,
Nobody else can confirm or deny ~ are you here?
Maybe, baby; just maybe.

Waiting for the lab to ring
To tell us what facts my blood revealed.
Soon I will know if you are here
Inside me, in my womb ~ or not.
Maybe, baby; just maybe.

You’re here! You’re real! Alive!
One hurdle down, a hundred more to go.
Don’t know how long I have you,
Perhaps not long, perhaps many years.
Maybe, baby; just maybe.

I tell myself not to think of milestones:
Don’t let my brain head down that path.
Maternity clothes, kicks, hiccups, waddling…
Will we reach that point together ~ you and me?
Maybe, baby; just maybe.

Will my belly get round, and its button pop out?
Will your brother be able to feel your kicks?
Will you hear your daddy talking to you?
Will we get to kiss you, hold you, raise you?
Maybe, baby; just maybe.

The one thing I know for certain, little one,
Is that you are alive. Amen!
You are an immortal, and we will live forever;
Together for eternity, no matter what earth holds.
Not maybe, baby; not just maybe.