Old Wives

{A poem about old wives tales, and finding out baby's sex :)}

This is what they tell you:

If your morning sickness is extreme, more an endurance test
A roped ring sways in circles, rather than right to left
If your skin is soft and dewy, and you’re sleeping on your right
If the heartbeat gallops like a horse, not a steam train in the night
Most of all my dear, they’ll smile, if you want to know the truth
A mother’s intuition, is all you need to use
And so I had my gender scan, no shadow of a doubt
Smug, I grinned and told myself, ‘I know how this turns out’
They started on the organs, which they said were doing well
The face in 4D haunting, but still, at it we melt
They zone in on the little hands, moving all around
And tell us with some certainty, it’s listening to our sounds
Eventually they ask us, do you want to know the sex? 
And with held breath we say we do, having placed our bets
They travel to the area, bypassing tiny toes
And as the image steadies, I’m confused by what’s exposed
For all my science lessons, and life up to this point
Has implied to me, I'm certain, if there’s a penis, it’s a boy

(… And we’re having a girl, aren’t we?)

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