Parents

We expected you to soon be pregnant.
No preventions, a bride suited to motherhood
More than any I’ve met.

Barrenness.

And so you were pregnant on paper,
Going through the process of adoption
With trepidation and faith.
Matched with three siblings,
Cousins to my sons.
Until Kazakhstan closed permanently.

A paper miscarriage.

Presumably, too, the monthly bleeding
Offered a slap.
Every month, year by year.
Body betrayal.

A secret pregnancy,
Baby delivered at eight weeks,
And nothing but a bouquet to commemorate.

A few years later, an unexpected call.
Ten weeks of pregnancy.
Time to announce, to celebrate.
I was with friends, and I hung up the phone and wept,
Speechless and shaking
With joy.

Hours later, the baby was born.

You are a mother,
My brother a father,
With all of the pain and none of the joy.

“Here is the world.
Beautiful and terrible things will happen.
Don’t be afraid.”