What Your Unborn Child Might Be Thinking Poem by Jean Evans

Month number one, that's where I'll begin,
Doctors say right now, I'm only as big as the end of a pen.
Month number two, you can't feel me,
After all, I'm no bigger than a little pea.
Month number three, if you try real hard,
With the doctor's help you can hear my heart.
Month number four, you should really see me,
I'm squirming around, do you feel a little queezy?
Month number five, it's time for the T.V. toy,
Tell me mommy, am I a girl or a boy?
Month number six, mommy I hear your sweet voice,
I'm oh so glad keeping me was always your choice.
Month number seven, what an important time,
Don't worry mommy, I'm doing just fine.
Month number eight, it's time to prepare,
I'll need new clothes and lots of tender loving care.
Month number nine, the time has come,
Oh my goodness, I'm so excited mom!
Rush, Rush to the hospital, cause I just can't wait,
I want to see you mommy, your loving face.
Now I'm here and with tears of joy you've began to sob,
Don't worry mommy, you've done a Wonderful job! !