Poem: Upon Seeing an Ultrasound Photo of an Unborn Child

Glenn Jordan, from Crooked Shore, sent me this poem the other day, I thought it was worth sharing with all you. While we are past this point of first discovery, it’s still pretty cool.Oh, on another note, I read a blogger recently who wrote that they promised to not turn their site into some kind of child-focused blog (they were getting ready to have a baby as well), while I am committed to keep this site interesting on theological and cultural grounds (as best I can), I make no such promises about what I will and won’t write about when it comes to our daughter. That said, here’s a poem:
Tadpole, it’s not time yet to nag you
about college (though I have some thoughts
on that), baseball (ditto), or abstract
principles. Enjoy your delicious,
soupy womb-warmth, do some rolls and saults
(it’ll be too crowded soon), delight in your early
dreams — which no one will attempt to analyze.
For now: may your toes blossom, your fingers
lengthen, your sexual organs grow (too soon
to tell which yet) sensitive, your teeth
form their buds in their forming jawbone, your already
booming heart expand (literally
now, metaphorically later); O your spine,
eyebrows, nape, knees, fibulae,
lungs, lips… But your soul,
dear child: I don’t see it here, when
does that come in, whence? Perhaps God,
and your mother, and even I — we’ll all contribute
and you’ll learn yourself to coax it
from wherever: your soul, which holds your bones
together and lets you live
on earth. — Fingerling, sidecar, nubbin,
I’m waiting, it’s me, Dad,
I’m out here. You already know
where Mom is. I’ll see you more directly
upon arrival. You’ll recognize
me — I’ll be the tall-seeming, delighted
blond guy, and I’ll have
your nose.

By Thomas Lux