*

I've never had

an abortion, but then

again I've never been

left by a husband

when I was pregnant

with 8 children.

I've never been totally broke.

I've never known I had

a life-risking pregnancy.

I have no right to interfere

between any woman and

her decisions.

saiom shriver

“Oh my God,” I said aloud as I sat on the toilet with a positive pregnancy test in my hand.

            “Is everything alright in there?” asked Dan, my husband, in a more annoyed than worried tone.

            “Yeah,” I blurted out. I don’t know why I said that.

            Dan’s parents are coming into town this weekend. We’re supposed to break the news to them about the divorce (my own parents are dead). I know what you’re thinking – this just got on a whole new level of complicated. I know – trust me. I really do.

            I glanced nervously at the clock – it was 10:38. We had to pick up Dan’s parents from the airport at 12:00. Just great.

            I heard the door rattle and I quickly chucked the little stick into the trashcan. “I need to shower,” Dan said as he came in. I looked frantically from the trashcan to him, trying to figure out how to tell him.

            “Dan I –”

            “Whatever it is, we can talk about it later,” he cut me off.

            As I stepped out of the bathroom, I racked my brain for a way to tell him. What would he think? Isn’t telling his parents about the divorce enough already? I just didn’t see this ending well. I lay down on the bed and dwelled in my thoughts.

            The car ride to the airport was dead silent – the kind of silence you can almost hear: a tiny buzzing sound lingering in the air. I tried over and over again to tell Dan, but the words escaped my lips as soon as they got there. Fear and uncertainty rendered me unable to speak.

            After what seemed like forever, we got out of the car and made our way to my in-laws’ terminal.

            “Dan! June! How are my two favorite newly-weds?” Dan’s mom, Marie, said as she took me in for a warm embrace. Yes, you heard right. Newly-weds. We’re three months married. Left that small detail out.

            “Dan, my man!” exclaimed his father, Richard, as they almost violently patted each other in the back and hugged. “It’s great to see you again, June!” he approached me for a hug now, much gentler, of course.

            We engaged in small talk about work and our lives as we walked out of the airport. Every now and then, Marie would throw in a “Love-birds” when referring to Dan and me. They really had no clue.

            We got home and started prepping for lunch. “Dan and I are going to head out for a bit and get some things from the store,” Richard called out from the front door.

            “Sounds wonderful honey. Hurry back; these steaks will be done any minute!” Marie chirped in her sing-song voice.

            “Won’t be long, m’dear!” he replied in his charming southern accent. I really was going to miss them.

            We were setting the table as the sound of explosive laughter and the creaky door filled the house. They were back. “We brought some wine! I hear it’s your favorite, June,” Richard beamed. Oh no.

            Soon, we all gathered around the table, Richard filling everyone’s glasses quite generously. I gulped anxiously before he got to mine. I proceeded to stuff seasoned potatoes in my mouth.

            “Darling, you’ve barely touched your glass. Don’t play with me, I’m not ready to be a grandma yet,” laughed Marie. I choked on a thick piece of steak and started coughing violently. I looked down, unable to make eye contact with anybody.

            “June, you’re not –” I looked up at Dan, my eyes giving it all away.

            “What’s going on?” inquired Marie.

            “We’re getting a divorce.”

            “I’m pregnant,” I said at the same time he spoke. This can’t be good.

            “Divorce?” cried out Marie.

            “Pregnant?” said Richard and Dan at the same time. I felt that piece of steak in my throat. My predicament had really come full circle. 

            “I found out this morning,” I said, hoping to ease the tension. It didn’t. Marie and Richard looked heart-broken and disappointed. Dan looked like he was either about to punch a wall or cry. Maybe both.

            Nobody said anything else all through dinner. We ate in silence, nobody looking at each other. When we were done, I helped take the plates into the kitchen, and was surprised to see Dan follow me all the way to the sink, his countenance relaxed. “We’ll figure this out,” he said as he stroked my shoulder.

            I wished I could believe him. And for a second there, I really did.  

Bearing a child is lethal

My momma sobbed as she hold my father tight

My daddy swallowed what seemed to be his pride

Doctor can't you do something

Doctor I know you can do something

He begged and begged as my momma cried harder

I look up to them asking why does it matter?

I'm here for you, I'm all you need

I don't want to have a child of my own anyway

Sex And Fear

The lines of your arm,

like the lines of a woman,

pinpricked and allergic. 

A parasite,

snacking on the disc that rides on the backs of elephants she saw marching in a line

like the girls she watched from the window. 

A family quilt,

stretched and pinned.

Splintering like the doll I used to start your heart. 

He stuffed a ghoul inside your mothers crock pot;

the one with the peppers painted on the side. 

Laymen, swaddled in sea foam green

and their breath smells like toothpaste .

Rubbing molten latex on your sacred cyst 

filled with baby pink puss. 

Contort into a butterfly

only to crinkle paper.

Doused in scented oils I used to clean your grandmothers hair.

A raspberry rascal pulls at the corners of your mouth;

forging a depression to match the one between your legs,

to match the one on yellow carpet. 

Turning you into a banshee

sweet with the salt that your mother lounged in.

Berry coloured streaks run along the sides of you like they ran across the hospital bed.

It's left you topheavy

and bathing on a roof,

back turned to King David. 

they call me pregnant patti,

cause i'm always having a baby,

i spend my life in pregnancy,

no ifs, ands, buts, or maybes,

maternity clothes are all i've worn,

for twenty seven years,

i still can dance and even at times,

i'll drink quite a few beers,

i gave birth as of yesterday, 

i'm waiting for a period

1:09 PM 6/22/2013 ©

Hush little baby please don’t cry

There’s not a speck of hope in the vast night sky

You got a mommy who loves you

She’s doing her best

She’s rented a room

So you can get some rest

Cuz she cannot sleep if you keep on crying

Hush little baby please don’t moan

You’ll make it through cuz you’re not alone

You’ve got a mommy who needs you

Though she may weep

For your daddy who has

A Promise to keep

Hush little baby please don’t wail

For once in his life

Your daddy cannot fail

I’ll bring you up

I’ll treat you right

If only I can make it

Through this night

8 months and 28 days,
I toss and I turn tonight
blankets on, blankets off,
the streetlamps outside are too bright

I moan, I whimper
I need to get some sleep
I feel so uncomfortable
my sweat is soaking the sheets

He is getting so big,
I'm swollen round and firm
any day now he is due to come
He's excited so he squirms

But mommy is trying to sleep
mommy needs her rest
he sure is having fun in there
but hes being quite the pest

I rub my womb to calm him
I whisper into the night:
"Shh shh sweetheart"
my stomach is stretched so tight

I can feel his little heart pumping
I can feel his feet
he is almost done growing inside me
and I cannot wait till we meet