My womb has never carried a baby,
No nine months of pregnancy bliss for me.
I know nothing about the swollen ankles,
Can't tell you nothing about morning sickness.
This is a story of a mother, a childless mother is me.
I don't know anything about the baby kicks,
Or how it feels when the baby turns,
Those are my deepest desires.
The wacky cravings women always get,
That again is one I can't tell about,
A childless mother, a yearning heart.
I am a childless mother with empty arms longing to hold,
My heart is wide open, eyes filled with tears.
Rocking back and forth, my baby in my arms,
Listening to the breathing, being in tune with it.
Listening to the heartbeat, inhaling the perfec scent.
Scent of my own baby, centre of my world.
Watching the eyes while feeding, tiny fingers on my chest.
I long to put my baby to sleep, to hum as they drift to dream land.
I hunger for a chance to hold my baby close to my heart,
A heart that would beat stronger with a touch.
Raising the little angel, with my eyes and a face
That is much better than mine.
Day and night the longing goes deeper,
My arms are empty, my heart is big.
I am a mother, a childless mother is me.