“It was a boy”, the doctor answered
To the question she would regret
Further decreasing the likelihood
This day she’d ever forget
Guilt consumes each waking day
And haunts her sleepless nights
She second guesses her judgment
And curses her civil rights
The depression was inevitable
And the ensuing pain was great
The healing process, yet to start
Her secret storm, never to abate
She thinks about diapers she’ll never change
And first steps she’ll never share
Imagining that “mommy” would be his first word
And the color of his eyes and hair
And he would be sixteen today
This son she would never know
She wonders all he might have been
Given the chance to grow
Though she may never get another chance
Her mistake is forever filed
Under “things I did that I can’t forgive”
It wasn’t a choice, it was a child.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem