Looking Back

I wrote this poem just before Megan became pregnant with Wyeth. Maybe I should change the title to "Inkling" or "Precursor" or "Soon Enough"


Nothing

It isn’t
No blood, no drama, no death
It just isn’t
And no one will ever know it could have been
No one but the two of us
Maybe Seren knew too
Whenever I asked her whether she wanted a brother,
She said simply “noooohhwa”
And when I asked her whether she wanted a sister
Another “noooohhwa”

If it was planned, we’d only be off till next month
But it wasn’t
At least not yet

It didn’t even make it to blue, or two lines, or whatever
For ten days, though, it was on the agenda
And it was a lot of things besides

It was a boy with a name,
And a girl with at least a dozen different names
It was no wine, no brie, and no allergy meds
It was the birthday gift I couldn’t buy my wife
And in nine months it would have been the birthday gift she couldn’t buy me
It would have been our birthday gifts for some time to come
It was what we wanted
And what we didn’t

When I asked Seren whether she wanted to be an only child
Without pause or indecision
She answered “nooooohhwa”
So it may just be delayed