In the depths of my longing, my heart does ache,
A whispered yearning, a dream I cannot shake.
A PCOD patient, trapped in this strife,
Longing for a baby, the precious gift of life.
Within my being, a storm brews deep,
A battle of hormones, a secret I keep.
Irregular cycles, elusive as a breeze,
Conceiving a child, an elusive tease.
Each month's arrival, a bitter reminder,
Of the empty cradle, hopes pulled asunder.
Ovaries polycystic, a tangled affair,
Conceiving a baby, an unanswered prayer.
I see mothers tenderly cradle their own,
Aching arms empty, longing to be known.
The pitter-patter of tiny feet in their embrace,
While mine yearn for a chance, a sweet solace.
Doctors and treatments, a path I have tread,
Hope mingled with doubts, an emotional thread.
Hormones and needles, tests and scans,
Navigating the labyrinth, holding onto chance.
But within this struggle, strength begins to rise,
The warrior within, refusing compromise.
I fight for my dreams, my heart ablaze,
Hoping and praying for brighter days.
Though the journey is tough, my spirit won't break,
A mother's love within, no obstacle can take.
In the depths of my longing, a fire burns bright,
A baby's laughter, a beacon of light.
So, I hold on to hope, a steadfast embrace,
Embracing the journey, finding solace in grace.
For one day, my arms will cradle a new life,
A PCOD warrior, a mother born from strife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem