"climaxed" poems - Hello Poetry

There once was a tiny bundle of cells that grew in my womb without the assistance of fertility medications or ovulation testing a surprise spontaneous occurrence of the first sparks of Life a product of the kind of ******* that happens on a honeymoon between newlyweds full of bliss, lust, and hope My womb once thought uninhabitable to such an occurrence boarded a plane home five days later cradling this new truth- The Honeymoon Baby Weeks would pass before my womb would begin to betray its secret 3 days late- nothing 5 days late- nothing 8 days late- the little blue plus sign and a whisper from deep in me- “You aren’t broken?” For several hours my womb and I jealously guarded this knowledge My new husband not known for his enthusiasm wouldn’t share in my joy So I sat alone feeding my hungry heart on now debunked beliefs “You AREN’T broken!” Having gorged myself to the point of bursting on a meal years in the making I looked with wet eyes to my then partner of more than half a decade “we made a honeymoon baby; I’m not broken.” No, he wouldn’t share my joy. His eyes turned to windows in the days that would follow They screamed their disgust into the wide open parts of me as pointedly and with as much passion as his mouth could ever muster It was then that I began to silently pray the baby away My silence only increased his vitriol until with a blast he climaxed in his rage and I felt the cold of the recently adorned wedding band against my neck as the hands which had held mine so softly so often pinned me to the door Finally my silent prayers gave way to a singular scream “I ******* hate you and I hate your child inside of me!” My womb cried to hear the prayer spoken She cried so long and so loud that she began to bleed She heaved and sobbed her rage into rivers of blood that wouldn’t stop for weeks and earthquakes of cramps that would rock me to my core The unstoppable current of tears and blood carried the translucent sac that housed the had been Honeymoon Baby into the ***** porcelain bowl The baby I prayed away that would never speak whispered up “You are broken.” The honeymoon was over. I hadn’t hated him before that. Six years later to the day we signed divorce papers.

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Nov 12, 2019

Nov 12, 2019 at 6:19 PM UTC

MandiWolfe

The Baby I Prayed Away

There once was a tiny bundle of cells that grew in my womb without the assistance of fertility medications or ovulation testing a surprise spontaneous occurrence of the first sparks of Life a product of the kind of ******* that happens on a honeymoon between newlyweds full of bliss, lust, and hope My womb once thought uninhabitable to such an occurrence boarded a plane home five days later cradling this new truth- The Honeymoon Baby Weeks would pass before my womb would begin to betray its secret 3 days late- nothing 5 days late- nothing 8 days late- the little blue plus sign and a whisper from deep in me- “You aren’t broken?” For several hours my womb and I jealously guarded this knowledge My new husband not known for his enthusiasm wouldn’t share in my joy So I sat alone feeding my hungry heart on now debunked beliefs “You AREN’T broken!” Having gorged myself to the point of bursting on a meal years in the making I looked with wet eyes to my then partner of more than half a decade “we made a honeymoon baby; I’m not broken.” No, he wouldn’t share my joy. His eyes turned to windows in the days that would follow They screamed their disgust into the wide open parts of me as pointedly and with as much passion as his mouth could ever muster It was then that I began to silently pray the baby away My silence only increased his vitriol until with a blast he climaxed in his rage and I felt the cold of the recently adorned wedding band against my neck as the hands which had held mine so softly so often pinned me to the door Finally my silent prayers gave way to a singular scream “I ******* hate you and I hate your child inside of me!” My womb cried to hear the prayer spoken She cried so long and so loud that she began to bleed She heaved and sobbed her rage into rivers of blood that wouldn’t stop for weeks and earthquakes of cramps that would rock me to my core The unstoppable current of tears and blood carried the translucent sac that housed the had been Honeymoon Baby into the ***** porcelain bowl The baby I prayed away that would never speak whispered up “You are broken.” The honeymoon was over. I hadn’t hated him before that. Six years later to the day we signed divorce papers.