Is Pregnancy Profound?

As a poet, I have this sense that I should be documenting my pregnancy in verse. Yet, I have a problem poeticizing my pregnancy. Michael and I were driving to Manhattan, and I was explaining to him how at ease I felt with my state of being, and how, as a result, I struggled with expressing the profundity of our situation.

I have a small human being moving around in my belly. He's pushed all of my organs out of the way, and, furthermore, it has gotten to the point where I can feel knees, elbows, and feet rolling under my skin, but I go on driving to the supermarket and shopping for apples while all this action happens behind the curtains on the circular stage of my uterus.

Perhaps it's because it takes 40 weeks of gradual changes to reach the final outcome. Isn't it that things profound are usually sudden in happenstance, revelation or realization? For example, the morbidly obese do not wake up one day to find themselves three hundred pounds overweight. It takes years for them to reach this point. If they had awakened to find themselves suddenly in their state of existence, they would understand the gravity of their situation. They would know that they were profoundly overweight. It has been a gradual change over the course of 34 weeks for me to have reached this point, so I have had time to become comfortable with pregnancy.

Women have been pregnant since the chicken or the egg. It's hard to add weight to my own role in the propagation of the human race. What is stunning to me now is knowing that we will care for and shape another human being. This strikes me as far more intense.