Oh, how clearly I remember,
it was nearly mid-December.
as I paced to get more limber,
round and round my parlor floor.
I was pregnant and expecting
I would shortly be connecting
with my doctor and selecting
twin names for babes I bore.
The year, shortly, would be ending.
Birth on Christmas Eve was pending.
It's a date I planned amending.
"They’ll come earlier," I swore.
I determined on that Sunday
I’d deliver them on Monday
Never doubting there’ll be some way.
“Doctor, please," I would implore.
My midsection was gigantic.
Making love-life less romantic.
I was starting to get frantic.
"I'm not waiting any more."
My man had turned misogynic
Morning found me at the clinic.
Grateful doctor was no cynic.
He said “Let’s see what’s in store."
He smiled wide and teeth were pearly.
He'd be glad to do it early.
Working Christmas made him squirely.
Home in three days or before.
In the prep room with a neighbor;
my heart beating like a tabor,
with a drip, I started labor.
Soon, we’d learn what lay in store.
Time crept by and seemed unending.
Nurses round the clock were tending.
Five p.m. births were impending.
My boy was the first to score.
Moments later, girl arriving
Thanks to God, we’re all surviving
Weight was proof, they had been thriving.
We’d go home with kids galore.
Twas worth all anticipation.
Christmas was a celebration.
Grateful hearts filled with elation.
Quote my husband "Nevermore."
My apologies to Edgar Allen Poe
*misogynic Not quite trusting of women
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