This poem describes how, whether you’re trying spontaneously or through treatment to conceive, your perception of time changes. The month has bracketed times like ‘fertile days’, ‘the dreaded two-week-wait’, ‘test day’. To others it might just be a Monday. To those trying to conceive the day will have a very specific number assigned to it and diaries might be marked with curious symbols. For the lucky ones a pale pastel line on a plastic stick will mean the end to all that counting.
What no one tells you is that during fertility treatment your perception of time changes. Two weeks can feel like an eternity; an entire year can roll by and all you can remember of its passing is the number of times you said, ‘this time…’ DS
Another day smoulders towards dusk
This Gibbous moon wanes into a haunting
One more again begun
A possible never cast aside –
– for now
All theories of time
reduced to maybe…
Raising funds for Fertility Network UK during National Fertility Awareness Week.
Just Giving Page: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/deborah-sloan