A Poem for Pregnancy

Yesterday, our due date greeted us as quickly as it left us. November 30, 2020 was our metaphorical finish line, the closing of an anticipatory chapter, until we were softly reminded that, at its core, it is only an abstract moment on the continuum of time.

As the day came to a close, I was also reminded of the last line of the poem, If You Would Grow, by Daniel F. Mead.

“A flower cannot be opened with a hammer.”

Today, I seek patience. Another’s time, including my own child’s, does not belong to me. I seek humility. Although I excitedly wrote, “Due date!” on my calendar, I have little control at all. I also seek poetry. It attempts to give the obscure and mysterious shape through words.

Below is the full version of If You Would Grow.

“If you would grow to your best self
Be patient, not demanding
Accepting, not condemning
Nurturing, not withholding

Self-marveling, not belittling
Gently guiding, not pushing and punishing
For you are more sensitive than you know
Mankind is as tough as war yet delicate as flowers
We can endure agonies but we open fully only to warmth and light

And our need to grow is as fragile as a fragrance dispersed by storms of will
To return only when those storm are still
So, accept, respect, and attend your sensitivity
A flower cannot be opened with a hammer.”

Plus, below are a few additional poems that have stood out to me as of late.

If by Rudyard Kipling (I especially love hearing Michael Caine read this poem.)

Moon Song by Kate J. Baer (Her new book, What Kind of Woman, is out now.)

The Raincoat by Ada Limón

The portrait above was taken of me by Lydia Plageman.

See more pregnancy moments on Instagram here, here, here, here, and here. View more blog posts here.