Many moons ago
They told me that I probably would never conceive babies.
I was lost inside myself with pain and grief, tears dripped down me like a steady rainfall.
I suffered emotionally and physically, drugs, blood drawn, nightly injections plunged
in to my thigh from my husband.
The pain took over me, possessed me with the sole, solitary routine of sadness and grief.
They told me I couldn’t have babies, that I was barren.
I listened to them every bright sunny day until every dark dismal night for two and a half years.
Those stupid fool nurses and doctors who clucked their heads at my chances were wrong.
When I got pregnant it was the happiest time in my life, I burst with blossoms.
I loved being a glowing pregnant woman sharing a secret with her unborn child
my hand rubbing my tummy lightly in soft circles.
My children were born twenty-one months apart, now 17 and almost 19.
I gave birth to each of them, a blessing, a gift, two presents from G-d.
The years pass too quickly, like a frenzied movie at the wrong speed.
I miss the emotional softness from young children
kisses soft as goose down, sloppy hugs, wet kisses and shiny faces like lit pumpkins.
My son is leaving for college in three weeks
I realized this pain is very familiar, it is the feeling of loss.
It hurts but I am older now however,
the past, as I know it, is gone forever.
Time moves at a rapid pace robbing us of memories.
They are leaving me, and not turning back to wave good-bye,
I know that they will return but it is a new stage, a turned chapter, a new course.
It is a big change and one that we all may love but tonight, in this instant,
I feel barren, all over again.