As we lay waiting
I married you when I was twenty-six
Eager to get on with life,
To have new passengers join in the adventure.
We already had a name for them: “oursons”,
Plans to bring them around the world for a year
They would be three, and each would have
Their dad’s freckles and his foldable ears.
Yet years have passed, wars have started,
Three flats later, I am still longing
To be able to use the word “family”.
I’ve had 800 pills, you perhaps 200,
Learned to cook, took up yoga,
Stopped alcohol, coffee and my beloved Zumba.
The new vocabulary we learned was not what we expected
No strollers, biberons, nannies and grandparents,
Instead strange acronyms, TTC, IUI, even the scary IVF,
The roller coaster two-week wait and the dreaded BFN.
A new routine has started,
35 empty scans,
Shared injections, sperms in cups,
Work trips cancelled due to cycle-projections,
My knowledge of hospitals has become A-star.
Nurses call my name when I walk in,
Yet no reason has ever been given.
Seeing the number of wrinkles multiply on my forehead
Whilst staring at my five bridesmaids’ bellies getting larger.
The sad Facebook reminders,
That your bestman got married two weeks after us, and already has two kids.
I’ve always had a plan, and this was no exception
But this time it crumbles and slips
From Montessori in Kenya, a child before I turn 30,
To the perspective of moving for medical services.
The guilt to see you sad when another could give you a little Scotney in seconds,
Three bedrooms to fill, so much love to give,
Just you and me for Christmas again.
We had a shared dream, and it seemed quite simple,
Waiting has never been my forte.
