Sitting in the kitchen,
Wond’ring at the food;
Knowing I should eat some
But I’m just not in the mood.
Later, in the bathroom,
Staring at my mien;
Looking for The Pregnant Glow
But only seeing sheen.
Somehow I daily make it,
Through a nause’us haze
Knowing that it’s not that bad
And there’re only 182 more days…
Photo Credit:
Michalina
©2019 Chelsea Owens
I Didn't Want to Be a Mother 
❤️😿
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What it lacks in creativity, right?
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No… 180 some days left. That’s a lot. It’s sad.
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I think I should have rhymed with hours. It keeps feeling like forever.
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I’m not sure my side of the great divide truly understands what you have to go through.
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Nor will you ever.
My husband and son were talking about something getting out of whack with their Adam’s apple the other day, and I realized I will never experience THAT. 😀
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Reblogged this on Peregrine Arc and commented:
Check out Chelsea’s other blog, Arcians, all about the adventures of raising tiny humans and navigating that thing called motherhood. Cheers. ☺️🍼
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Nice Poem. Thanks for sharing
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Thanks!
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