pregnancy poem

pregnancy poem

Eight Months

I have a huge and heavy

Robust and wriggling belly.

I am anticipatory and trepidatory,

While waiting I grow weighty;

My swollen tummy ever growing,

My once-slim figure ever going,

Expanding skin now stretched so taut,

And oh, the expensive creams I’ve bought

To halt the marks and stop the itching

That heavy pregnancy’s inflicting.

And it’s not just that: my feet are fat.

I can’t sleep on my front or back,

In fact, I cannot sleep at all

Without a massive pillow wall

That wraps around my front and rear;

My poor old husband can’t get near!

And then there’s matters of the table;

Although I eat all I am able,

Dining’s losing it’s appeal

As I can’t have a single meal

Without a painful gas affliction

Gaviscon’s my new addiction.

Then when I have to go outside

I feel like someone twice as wide

And lumber slowly down the street

With painful hips and back and feet

And even this small animation

Gives me bouts of palpitations.

It’s been a tiring pregnancy

But soon I’ll be a mum of three

And won’t be whinging half as much

When there’s nothing in me but my guts!

Read the rest of the post at it's original source by clicking here.

This post was recommended and added to Love All Blogs by writingbubble

Nelson Mandela: A Tribute

Politicians- The Good, The Bad and The Ugly