The countdown to my due date felt like a drum’s steady beat,
Each day a heavier weight, pressing, relentless, complete.
Anticipation twisted within, both thrilling and terrifying,
What would it feel like to hold her? Would I even be allowed to try?
The thought lingered, like a shadow that refused to leave,
A constant reminder of what I might not achieve.
Social services, too, had become a relentless drum,
Their visits, once occasional, now a constant hum.
Their car outside sent my heart into a knot,
What would they find wrong this time, what small fault?
A stray sock on the floor, a half-drunk cup of tea,
I became hyper-aware, waiting for their decree.
One visit stood out, a grey, drizzly afternoon,
The air inside felt heavy, like it had nowhere to bloom.
Two social workers stood at my door, their faces unreadable,
Their neutrality a mask, their words so predictable.
“We need to talk about your plan for after the birth,”
The tone matter-of-fact, as if speaking of the weather’s worth.
My heart sank as they sat, their pens poised to decide,
“We’re concerned about your ability to provide.”
“Your age, your situation, it’s all too much to bear,”
Their eyes cold with judgment, a future laid bare.
“We think it’s best you return to a foster home,
Until we know you’re ready to raise her on your own.”
The words hit like a punch, the sting deep and raw,
Their plan already in motion, a future I never saw.
“I’ve done everything you asked,” I choked through the pain,
“The nursery is ready, I’ve been preparing in vain.”
One social worker offered a smile, tight and rehearsed,
“We understand, but we must plan for the worst.”
They left me in silence, their judgment still ringing,
A weight in my chest, my heart bitterly stinging.
But in the stillness, something began to shift,
I couldn’t control them, but my spirit they couldn’t lift.
The only thing I could control, my will to fight,
To build a future, to make everything right.
That night, I wrote with trembling hands,
Of goals and dreams, of future plans.
I wrote for her, things she’d need to know,
How much she was wanted, how deeply I’d grow.
I fought for you, every single day,
No matter what others might have to say.
The words flowed out, a flood of resolve,
A grounding truth I could always evolve.
In spite of their doubts, their criticisms, their tests,
I would be ready, I’d give my best.
Love stronger than fear, fiercer than doubt,
I would rise, I would stand, I would not sell out.
The days blurred past, tension mounting still,
But through the chaos, I clung to my will.
My boyfriend, a rock, held my hand through the strain,
Supporting me quietly, easing the pain.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was something,
And that was enough, through all that was coming.
I held onto hope, though it seemed so small,
Because in the end, it was all I could call.
The ticking clock, the uncertainty, the fight,
Wouldn’t change the love that burned bright.
When the time came, I knew I’d be strong,
Not because of their doubts, but where I belonged.
It was the love for her, deep, unwavering, and true,
That would carry me through whatever I had to do.
A love stronger than fear, judgment, or blame,
A love that would guide me, and keep me aflame.
©zars
Z