Gloom

You’re sad.

Usually that makes me sad,

But this time I feel devastated.

It might be the pregnancy hormones,

Or maybe I’d be devastated anyway to hear

“Ever since you got pregnant, the air has changed.

I can’t place it, but something’s not good.”

Maybe I’m not as affectionate as before nor

Do I have the energy to give you those head rubs you love.

But how can I show you what I’m feeling.

How I feel like I’m barely surviving some days.

Some days I’d rather not be pregnant

If it meant sitting didn’t send excruciating pain

Through my body. That I want to drink water again

Without being nauseated.

That sometimes I cry myself to sleep

For the pain in my lower back is seething.

I’m in survival mode and life is still asking so much from me.

Friends want advice and dishes are molding in the sink.

And you’ve once complained about not having food in the fridge,

And I suddenly feel that,

Despite all my hard work, growing this baby,

I’ve failed you.

I’m responsible for this home becoming a house to you.

That the sadness in your eyes has come right from

A punch I didn’t know I landed.

I don’t feel like apologizing for I don’t feel like I wronged you,

So instead I say I’m sorry you feel this way,

And I settle under the cold, damp gloom

That’s now rolled in, over us both.