Puzzle pieces.
I found out today
My future will not consist
of the sound of little ones
running around.

I won't be awoken
to the sound
of a child in need
Due to a nightmare
or crawling into bed with me.

I won't ever get the chance
to feel something
I created
kick me from the inside.

I'll never know
what it's like
to grow a tiny person
from two people loving each other.

My partner will never
Hold my hand
while I bring our child
into the world to take their very first breaths.

I will never be pregnant.

I will never have a baby.

I'll never get to see
My eyes
Nose
Hair
on some smaller version of myself.

I won't get to laugh
at the way my child
smiles or frowns
like their father.

A failure at womanhood.
What our bodies are suppose
to be made to do,
I can not.

I can not give
my future husband
a child
to carry on his genes.

I can not conceive
if I do
I will not carry
my sweet baby to term.

"Infertile" they call it.
"Inferior" I say.

I guess this is what happens
When the puzzle pieces
Find there way
Together

This is why
I lost our child
it wasn't because of my age,
or because I didn't take care of myself.

My body simply failed me,
Failed you
failed our baby.

The reason that though
we never prevented it.
I only conceived that one time
I only got so close to happiness
Just the one time


This is why I lost you
This is why we broke

Neither of us even new it then.
I didn’t want to know
So scared of this reality
This is why I didn't get to keep you

This is why she does.

God knows all right?
He knew you were born to be a Father.
She gave you the sons
I would never of been able to give you.

She gives you miniature versions of yourself.
Little boys to run around
Little boys to look up to you
Little boys to call you daddy

The family I never could.
I am so glad you got this chance
Without question
I know you're incredible.

They are lucky
Your blood runs through their veins.
Being a parent was always in your future.
It just wasn't in mine.  

Puzzle pieces right?
What happens
When you don’t like your own?

we’re like a puzzle, dear.
a constant struggle to find our match,
the piece with which we fit.
and all the while referring to the
example on the box, an image of
a puzzle perfectly plenary,
cookie-cutter courtships of two
jagged-edged squares
just looking to fit in.
and the sea of polygonal
cacophony, swept by the tides
spawned from the puzzler’s searches,
grows ever-increasingly frantic as
the elusive match hides amongst
the others, like a needle in that
hellish and predictable haystack.
in impatience, he concedes to the
concealing pile, and continues on
to the next piece of the puzzle.

but he’ll return, for the game
will not be complete
until we two final pieces
meet.