Our daughter

Our daughter is a blessing,
a precious gift of life.
From chubby faced babe
to giggling girl.
One day a grown woman,
a strong leader
and perhaps a wife.

In her we see such potential,
exciting possibility.
As she passes through
each stage of youth,
we see glimpses of
the woman she'll one day be.
Her natural gifts are blossoming
with encouragement and praise.
We guide her through
the toughest times,
tears, terrors and tantrums.
She shines light into our days.

Our baby girl still really loves
cuddles and bedtime stories.
Yet, she's always had an
independent streak,
needing both space 
and reassurance from her worries.
We've picked her up, counted
to ten when she has grazed
an elbow or a knee.
We sing to her, 
ride bikes, climb trees, 
put on fashion shows and funny plays.

This child of ours has exhausted us.
She is a complex, clever girl.
We teach her morals,
patience, integrity,
new words, geography
listen to music from 'round the world.

We give to her all we can.
Love, time, finance too.
It's tempting to spoil,
indulge her every whim,
but she must learn 
restraint, respecting what is right and true.

We're instinctively protective
of our beautiful, zany girl.
Our pride and joy,
who we adore,
is blossoming
her character beginning to unfurl.

But our darling child doesn't 
share my DNA.
She was created in your womb.
You gave birth,
you gave her life.
But we're both mothers in a different way.
We have so much in common,
but it's hard for you and I.
We're strangers,
tense, distant,
yet connected,
this special child is the reason why.

I've sacrificed a lot to raise
your daughter as my own,
but no gracious word, nor
no reaching out
to the other mother of her second home.

I too have rocked your baby
in my arms when she cannot sleep.
I too have cleared up sick,
brushed hair,
designed menus,
played hours of hide and seek.
So I ask you to sit and talk with me,
show respect, not apprehension,
take an interest in my role.
Let's establish
banishing this pointless tension.
I'd like for us to demonstrate
what love can truly achieve.
For our daughter to feel a
sense of joy
as her mothers
display the real love in which we both believe.

Pure delusion

Still no sign of a baby,
Still all barren and bare.
No bun in the oven.
No anything, anywhere.

Still empty and waiting.
Still counting the days.
Endless frustrating
Baby shower parties.

Still pretending not to notice
A billion mothers walk past.
Suppressing the ache
With a terrible, fake laugh.

Vitamins and potions,
Tablets galore,
Bonking my husband
Like a desperate whore.

Another month gone
And still full of grief
For the life that I wanted
But couldn't conceive.

Losing my faith
And along with it hope
That it'll ever happen.
It's a really sick joke.

A test of a marriage
For better or worse.
We never expected
The infertility curse.

The worry of age.
My biological clock.
Terrible thoughts of using
Another man's cock.

Losing my grip
On these whirling emotions.
Crying in Waitrose.
Causing commotions.

My femininity in question.
A redundant, duff womb.
An incomplete woman
An imposter, a loon!

Ignoring friend's babies
For fear that I'll crack.
If I held one a moment
I may not give it back.

Flippant remarks,
And unhelpful words.
Just no idea
Of this ongoing hurt.

"Don't think about it."
Said so ignorantly.
Years of my life
thrown right back at me.

A change of direction.
That's what's required
To boost my morale,
Be re-engaged, re-inspired.

An action packed life.
I'm managing things well.
Counting my blessings
When my friends speak of hell.

Of persistent insomnia
Of nights without sleep.
While for me, it's a bonus
A blessed relief.

I can lie in til 10
Or siesta at two
With no threat of tantrums
Drool, sick or poo!

I look on the bright side,
Am thankful for a lot.
I learn not to forget
To ‘enjoy what you've got’.

Then all of a sudden,
My chest starts to ache.
Another announcement
That’s all it takes.

Again all alone.
Trapped in this cycle
Of endurance and fatigue
It's physical and mental.

I want to hear mummy,
And a new baby's cry
To have my child with me
Not a week then goodbye.

I want to know motherhood
Present a child to my mum.
A way to say thank you
For the friend she's become.

Phone calls at midnight
A calm, listening ear
Plenty of hugs
To soothe the raw fear.

More prodding and poking,
Appointments and queues.
Undignified positions.
More time in loos.

More peeing on sticks,
More far Eastern cures,
More consultants and nurses
What more to endure?

The worry, the stress,
The fear and confusion.
Starting a family?
It's just pure delusion.

How do you have your sex?

Excuse me, can I ask you,
how you have your sex?
I don't think that we're doing it right
and it's making me feel quite vexed.

I'd like to conduct a survey
to uncover your toppest tips
and find out if we're using them right
(you know, all our jiggly bits!)

I didn't pay much attention
to biology back in school
which really is quite unfortunate
as now I can't have a clue at all.

For if I were a genuine 'sexpert',
I'm sure it wouldn't be such a struggle
to pop another human out
without getting in such a muddle.

Everyone else seems to manage it.
It's not a silly saga for the rest.
So, what have we been doing wrong?
We've been trying our very best.

Maybe it's all about the angles
or perhaps the temperature.
Should we perform a special ritual
before each jiggy-jiggy adventure?

We use the correct biological bits.
I've double checked, so I am sure
and from the umpteen books I've read,
we've run out of options to explore!

So reader, that's why I need your help,
to explain this confounded mystery.
Answers on a postcard please.
It would mean an awful a lot to me.