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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Family >> ID #1366343 |
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Nine Months First month I am happy. Full of plans of “what to do‘s? What will it be? He is full of “I love you’s!” Second and third Are not a celebration! I can be heard With all the stomach irritation.. Fourth, fifth, and sixth I am thinking of names I’m not quite as sick. There are no pains. Seventh and eighth I wobble, not walk. The weird things I crave. The scary birth talk. This is month nine. I feel all this hurt. Pain in my spine With all this hard work. Is it a boy that’s coming out? Will he play ball? Is it a girl, put here to pout? Then the Doctor makes the call. "What do you want to name your girl?" He asks with a smile showing all his teeth. I thought to my self “She’ll be my world” "I think I will name her, my heart…Charity." With all this sweat on head, And a very tired grin, I simply spoke up and said I think I’ll do this again.
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