Mozart: Symphony No.36 `Linz` mov.2 / Heechuhn Choi · Korean Symphony Orchestra

For
LISA and SCOTT
who have made
our lives
complete

October

    October...October!
         the month of my birth
         and that of my first-born--
Could it be also the start of
                        another's existence?
Could my body possibly hold
   in its warm, dark recesses
   the secret beginnings of new life?
   
Comes a gentle heaviness
               deep in my womb...
      as always before,
But nothing more...nothing,
And day upon day passes
          in trembling wonderment--
          
Do I dare even suspect it?

Half-frightened, half-hopeful,
     in silence
          I wait...

November

The autumn rains come
     to water the fertile earth,
     to prepare her for spring
          seedlings now hidden deep
               beneath her bosom.
               
And so my tears of joy come,
     preparing me for my
                   coming season,
     and the new life hidden deep
     in my once infertile womb.

December

Today I heard your heartbeat,
     O tiny fetus!
Through the magic of electronics
     midst liquid, swishing sounds
     spoke the soft steady "lub-dub"
          of your own life-blood.
          
Doctor didn't have to tell me
     for I've known it many weeks,
But I loved to hear him say:
"You're going to have a baby."

And I felt all warm
     and tingly
     all over again.

January

My son has weaned,
my first-born, my babe--
     now just past two,
          almost a child.
          
He nestles close against
                   my bulging form
And I rock him gently...
My pregnant body has withdrawn
          from him
     its warm, sweet flow of goodness,
So he withdraws from me.

Yet, even now, he is content
     to rest his head between my breasts,
     to sleep quietly near me--
     
But he suckles no more.

February

Suddenly
     it's all so real...
the gentle flutters deep inside
          that come
          in the quiet night.
          
Now I attend the classes--
     wearing my special clothes,
     seeing all the other big-bellied women
     and life-size charts
          of babies being born,
     taking home
     free diaper rash ointment,
     incredibly tiny Pampers, and
     brochures from (alas!) the
                          formula companies. 
                          
Stirs within me
     a pleasant nostalgia
     of my first pregnancy year,
     and immense desire
          to hold the little one
               close to my heart.

March

I have busied myself--
too much so
perhaps,
for the pressure
is great
to complete a thousand things
before
the baby comes. 

Yet
I feel guilt,
frustration,
and my own
neglect
of those I love
most. 

And I weaken
and weep...
sleep...
and try to begin
another day.

April

For a moment
I relax
and feel the warm April sunshine,
the coming-summer breezes
soft upon my face,
whispering through my hair,
and I delight in the acrobatics
of my unborn child. 

My little boy runs laughing
across the quietly greening meadow,
sprinkled with pink and yellow,
     white and blue;
the last of the winter nestlings
                           are flying north,
and cotton clouds drift high
in a cerulean sky. 

I am content,
secure in my nest--
for this moment.

May

Days...and nights
    etch their way into memory,
    bringing
    summer storms,
    unbelievable heat,
    disturbing my tranquility--
and I almost take for granted
the constant presence
of my growing babe. 

Until someone sees me
     and says,
"When are you due?"

June

forty weeks
have passed
contractions
come
hours go by
filled with intense urgency
stay close
my husband, my love
your voice becomes
     my strength
and I am much in tune
with the rhythms
of my body...
I cry out now--
ah, blessed moment of birth--
our daughter is here!
minutes old
she suckles
such love flows
          between us
I wait only
for the joyous reunion
with our first-born son
our family is
complete

July

Tonight
     you cry,
in sheer awareness
of life,
and I offer you the comfort
of tired arms and
full breasts
     ...then we pace the darkened hall,
feeling each other's presence
until
we are both at peace
once more.

August

Pregnancy is past
     (postpartum, too,
     so the doctor says). 
     
Grandma has gone home
--the holiday is over--
and the realities of
motherhood
are begun
anew.

September

What happened to
     my precious toddler-boy,
     the one I bore
     not quite three years ago?
I see but obstinance,
     so foreign, so repulsive
     --not my son at all.
     
What happened to
     the mommy
     who was always there
     for only him
     to snuggle close to in the dark?
He feels rejection now,
     so new and so confusing,
     and struggles hard
          to make it not be so. 
          
We are estranged,
     and I am so lonely.

October

She smiles at him
     as the first time
     she ever smiled,
     pure adoration,
     as she alone can give.
     
He reaches out toward her,
     as in the beginning,
     a tender touch
     and genuine,
     but he alone must do it. 
     
An old relationship is restored,
new bondings are established
     with a hint of sibling love
and promises for a beautiful 
                       tomorrow... 

--10/15/1979