My maudlin mind drifts back ten years in time
When I’d spent years longing for pregnancy
I’d wait each time my temps began to climb
Could this luteal phase be more, maybe?

That Advent, “maybe” became “yes” for me
My temps stayed high, and other signs made clear
The barren womb conceived! Then agony.
And like the snow, my heart fell tear by tear

The cost of disappointed hope was dear
Expecting joy led to a painful grief
And I’m supposed to look at hope with cheer?
Well, yes. Not having hope is no relief

Though pain is real, it’s not the story’s end
I’ll risk trusting in good scenes to be penned


A note: The week I miscarried, Minneapolis experienced what was probably the most snow I’ve seen; the Metrodome roof collapsed. Although I don’t generally annotate my poetry, I am happy to answer questions if more information is needed to make sense of it.