The Abundance In My Womb

I underestimated the beautiful turmoil of carrying a child in my womb, the hellacious,

unpredictable waves of nausea preceding a humiliating public display

as I lurch for the nearest bathroom or bag made of anything.

Despite the acidic aftertaste, I wipe my mouth with joy, affirming

the assurance that my body is providing an abundance 

of hormones for an invisible human being. 

I miscalculated the pummeling delight I’d find in feeling an aggressive,

squirming little tike discover which sport he likes, trying out his

kicks for Team Ribcage, Bladder, and Kidneys. 

Despite sharp cramps and laughter that leaks, I cling to this uncontrollable,

abundant story I was woven into, composed by gentle hands that 

knitted together an untamed miracle amid my battered bones.

I neglected the abundance birthed from sacrifice but now wear pain and pressure 

as a promise that while growth is never without labor, the paid price 

secures a foundation for love anew.

HOW DO THESE WORDS RESONATE WITH YOU?
TELL US IN THE COMMENTS.

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Peyton Garland is an author, coffee shop hopper, and farm mama connecting people to a grace bigger than expected. Check out her latest book, Tired, Hungry, & Kinda Faithful, to discover how your cup can overflow in life's dryest seasons. Connect with her at https://peytongarland.substack.com/ and Instagram @peytonmgarland.