Shall I go to the shower
and see people who
are acquainted with me,
who seem to want
my company?

Shall I ooh/aah over gifts,
sip melted orange sherbet
and ginger ale punch,
eat tiny squares
of cheesecake and
play party games
with baby themes?

Or should I stay
home, cradling
a heating pad
when I would rather
be cradling a baby?

The package of tiny shirts
I have stored in the drawer
are meant for
my someday baby,
not her real one.

I will draw the blinds
and take Tylenol and tea,
awash in the misery
and monthly disappointment.