28+ Short And Famous Poems About Pregnancy

Watching and feeling a baby grow inside you, knowing one day you will hold this child in your hands is one of the greatest gifts that can be experienced. Many renowned poets have been inspired by this theme as a lot of heartfelt and meaningful poems about pregnancy were created. These poems beautifully capture the emotions, anxieties, and joys experienced by expectant mothers as they embark on the transformative journey of becoming mothers.

Poems about pregnancy often exude a sense of awe, wonder, and celebration of new life. Some poems delve into the physical sensations of pregnancy. The changes in a woman’s body, the way it expands and transforms to accommodate the growing life within, are often portrayed in vivid and evocative imagery like the sensation of feeling a baby’s first kick or the heavy weight of carrying a life. Such verses emphasize the miracle of life forming and growing within the womb, highlighting the unique connection between mother and child. Some other poems focus on the emotional aspects of pregnancy. They depict the range of emotions expectant mothers experience, from joy and excitement to fear and vulnerability. These poems explore the anticipation and the sense of responsibility that comes with bringing a new life into the world. They celebrate the strength and resilience of women as they navigate pregnancy and embrace the role of motherhood.

Overall, we offer you 28 short and famous poems about pregnancy to give you a glimpse into one of life’s most profound and transformative experiences. They honor the beauty and complexity of the mother-child connection, expressing the awe, joy, and love that accompany the journey of bringing a new life into the world.

1, Pleasure © Giana Yorayne Leuterio

Before You Got Satisfied With The Pleasure
Ask Yourself Are You Sure
About The Result And The Ending
Do You Even Knew The Word Parenting?
Lust And Desire Will One Day Fade
And Once You’ll Regret The Mistake You Made
Being A Mother Needs Capability
The Question Is Are You Ready For The Responsibility
Teenage Pregnancy Is An All-Time Issue
Don’t Drag Yourself Into
Spend Time To Think Wisely
Don’t Give Up Your Virginity That Easily

2, Chant of the Pregnant Goddess © Jana McCarthy

I am the mother of the moon
sister of the stars
child of the light in your eyes.
I am powerful.

The geometry of my shape shifts
from gently curved lines
to expanding circles: earth, moon, sun.

I am powerful.
I am strong.

The tempo of my vibration quickens,
increasing from
butterfly wings, to floundering fish,
to beating drum,
erupting volcano,
the rhythm as old and constant as
the cycles of the sun
and the turn of the tides.

I am powerful.
I am strong.
I am beautiful.

I hold the hope of my ancestors
the knowledge of my time
the fate of my future.

I am powerful.
I am strong.
I am beautiful.
I am mother.

3, A Boy Or A Girl © Anonymous

At first you moved,
only a little.
I could always find you,
right in the middle.
As time went on,
you really started to grow.
It wasn’t a whole lot,
in fact, it was rather slow.
Before I knew it,
you were all over the place.
It kind of felt like
you were running a race.
People would ask me
if you were a boy or a girl.
I would sit and wonder,
if you would have curls.
There are so many things
I really want to know.
But you are hidden inside,
so the answers don’t show.
How much will you weigh?
How tall will you be?
What color is your hair?
Will you even like me?
I hope and pray
you feel like you belong.
I never want you to feel
like you are alone.
Your dad and I
planned you from the start.
You, my dear child,
were made straight from our hearts.
In about a week or so,
I’ll meet you, for the first time.
For you are the product
of your dad’s love and mine.
There will be no one like you,
not any place in the world.
It really doesn’t matter
if you are a boy or a girl.
We are both so happy
that you even exist.
The gender doesn’t matter.
you’ll be hard to resist.
I hope I make you proud,
that I am your mother every day.
Because, you have filled my dreams
in more ways than words can say.
It won’t be long before
I can look you in the eyes.
I can feel the excitement growing,
I know I’m going to cry.
Don’t worry my angel,
those tears will be of joy.
It won’t matter to me
if you are a girl or a boy.

4, Infant Joy © William Blake

I have no name
I am but two days old.—
What shall I call thee?
I happy am
Joy is my name,—
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee;
Thou dost smile.
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee.

5, I Know A Baby, Such A Baby © Christina Georgina Rossetti

I know a baby, such a baby, –
Round blue eyes and cheeks of pink,
Such an elbow furrowed with dimples,
Such a wrist where creases sink.
‘Cuddle and love me, cuddle and love me,’
Crows the mouth of coral pink:
Oh, the bald head, and, oh, the sweet lips,
And, oh, the sleepy eyes that wink!

6, Blessings Upon You © Anonymous

Blessings upon you
my baby unborn.
Safely inside me
asleep and so warm.
Sleep must come easy
to those who are unborn,
as the Maker so silently
fashions your form.
Sleep while you can now
so watery and warm,
for outside this world
is a crashing storm.
Soon you will discover
the taste of your tears,
so sleep now my loved one,
my baby, my dear.

7, A Prayer for my Daughter © W. B. Yeats

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory’s wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger’s eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.

Helen being chosen found life flat and dull
And later had much trouble from a fool,
While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless could have her way
Yet chose a bandy-leggèd smith for man.
It’s certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.

In courtesy I’d have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful;
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty’s very self, has charm made wise,
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there’s no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.

An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of Plenty’s horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven’s will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all’s accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony’s a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.

8, Willow Tree © Anonymous

I am a willow tree,
Strong, yet fluid

graceful.

I can bend with the wind,
but my roots are tough,

indestructible.

Opening to birth my child
is flowing with the wind:

from a soft and gentle breeze
to a stormy gale
back to a soft and gentle breeze.

My body is strong, but flexible.
It is my friend, it knows how to open.
I am a friend to my body

eating well, walking, and loving myself.

I shall birth safely, freely, openly . . .

among my loved and trusted ones.

I am the willow, flexible

beautiful resilient
endowed with the power of surrender

to the wind rustling through my leaves,

my branches.

My roots reach deep into Mother Earth
Anchored in Her strength
I bring forth life

In joy!

9, When They Placed You In My Arms © Anonymous

When they placed you in my arms
For the first time after your birth
Is my most precious memory
Of my life here on this Earth

After endless months of waiting
Anxious that all would be well
Relief mixed with anticipation
As I floated under your spell

My love for you had grown stronger
Each day through pregnancy
In that moment it exploded
Awakening the Core of me

I gazed tenderly into your eyes
Then mine watered with a tear
The pure bliss of the moment
As I embraced you, my dear

The weight of your little body
As I held you close and tight
Feeling your physical presence
Sensing your true Spirit Light

The warmth of your precious form
Now tangible at long last
Melted time’s candle to me
You became my future and my past

The sheer miracle of life
I possessed in my arms
Blessed always to be
Captivated by your charms

When they placed you in my arms
You slipped into my heart
Through Eternity we are bound
Entwined Souls to never part

10, You are not a Mistake © Anonymous

You are not a mistake, don’t feel depressed
Though she was upset with the Positive pregnancy test.
You’re here now, make something of your life – find a way
cos some babies were born and didn’t last a day.

Your parents say they didn’t plan for you
As a little baby, what were you to do?
Its not your fault, that doesn’t make you bad
So quit walking around with a face so sad.

You now think you don’t deserve to live
Do you know what the future has to give?
Thinking they don’t love you, wanting to take your life. Wait!!
People who did that, made the biggest mistake.

Prove them wrong, make your dreams a reality
Be the best that you can ever be.
They’ll change that bad confession soon
As in life you start to bloom.
You are not a Mistake but a ray of Sunshine.

11, For A Mother-to-Be © John O’Donohue

Nothing could have prepared your heart to open like this.

From beyond the skies and the stars
This echo arrived inside of you and started to pulse with life
Each beat a tiny act of growth,
Traversing all our ancient shapes,
On its way home to itself.

Once it began, you were no longer your own.
A new, more courageous you, offering itself
In a new way to a presence you can sense
But you have not seen or known.

It has made you feel alone
In a way you never knew before;
Everyone else sees only from the outside
What you feel and feed
With every fibre of your being.

Never have you travelled farther inward
Where words and thoughts become half-light
unable to reach the fund of brightness
Strengthening inside the night of your womb.

Like some primeval moon,
Your soul brightens
The tides of essence
That flow to your child.

You know your life has changed forever,
For in all the days and years to come,
Distance will never be able to cut you off
From the one you now carry
For nine months under your heart.

May you be blessed with quiet confidence
That destiny will guide you and mind you.

May the emerging spirit of your child
Imbibe encouragement and joy
From the continuous music of your heart,
So that it can grow with ease,
Respectant of wonder and welcome when its form is fully filled

And it makes it journey out
To see you and settle at last
Relieved and glad in your arms.

12, Teenage Pregnancy © Eric Kawa

Today, tears fall my eyes
Yesterday what I abandoned was advice
I am worried about the future
The perpetrator a lost treasure

The future is bleak
I am but a freak
My parents have disowned me
Among my friends I can’t be

My pride I’ve lost
A burden I’ve got
My life is now short

Nine months of injury
A bundle of sorrow
I’ll get tomorrow
Oh help me God

13, Chant of the Pregnant Goddess © Jana McCarthy

I am the mother of the moon
sister of the stars
child of the light in your eyes.
I am powerful.
The geometry of my shape shifts
from gently curved lines
to expanding circles:
earth, moon, sun.
I am powerful.
I am strong.
The tempo of my vibration quickens,
increasing from
butterfly wings, to floundering fish,
to beating drum,
erupting volcano,
the rhythm as old and constant as
the cycles of the sun
and the turn of the tides.

I am powerful.
I am strong.
I am beautiful.

I hold the hope of my ancestors
the knowledge of my time
the fate of my future.

I am powerful.
I am strong.
I am beautiful.
I am mother.

14, A Prayer for One Who Comes to Choose This Life © Danelia Wild

May she know the welcome
of open arms and hearts
May she know she is loved
by many and by one
May she know the circle of friendship that gives
and receives love in all its forms
May she know and be known
in the heart of another
May she know the heart
that is this earth
reach for the stars and
call it home
And in the end
may she find everything
in her heart
and her heart
in everything

15, Before I Knew Your Name © Anonymous

Before I knew your name,
Before I saw your chin and your nose,
Before I counted your fingers and toes,
I asked heaven for someone as wonderful as you,
And ever prayer and wish came true.
I dreamed of you…
Before I knew your name.

16, Parturition © Mina Loy

I am the centre
Of a circle of pain
Exceeding its boundaries in every direction

The business of the bland sun
Has no affair with me
In my congested cosmos of agony
From which there is no escape
On infinitely prolonged nerve-vibrations
Or in contraction
To the pinpoint nucleus of being

Locate an irritation without
It is within
Within
It is without
The sensitized area
Is identical with the extensity
Of intension

I am the false quantity
In the harmony of physiological potentiality
To which
Gaining self-control
I should be consonant
In time

Pain is no stronger than the resisting force
Pain calls up in me
The struggle is equal

The open window is full of a voice
A fashionable portrait painter
Running upstairs to a woman’s apartment
Sings
“All the girls are tid’ly did’ly
All the girls are nice
Whether they wear their hair in curls
Or —”
At the back of the thoughts to which I permit crystallization
The conception Brute
Why?
The irresponsibility of the male
Leaves woman her superior Inferiority.
He is running upstairs

I am climbing a distorted mountain of agony
Incidentally with the exhaustion of control
I reach the summit
And gradually subside into anticipation of

Repose
Which never comes.
For another mountain is growing up
Which goaded by the unavoidable
I must traverse
Traversing myself

Something in the delirium of night hours
Confuses while intensifying sensibility
Blurring spatial contours
So aiding elusion of the circumscribed
That the gurgling of a crucified wild beast
Comes from so far away
And the foam on the stretched muscles of a mouth
Is no part of myself
There is a climax in sensibility
When pain surpassing itself
Becomes exotic
And the ego succeeds in unifying the positive and negative poles of sensation
Uniting the opposing and resisting forces
In lascivious revelation

Relaxation
Negation of myself as a unit
Vacuum interlude
I should have been emptied of life
Giving life

For consciousness in crises races
Through the subliminal deposits of evolutionary processes

Have I not
Somewhere
Scrutinized
A dead white feathered moth
Laying eggs?
A moment
Being realization
Can
Vitalized by cosmic initiation
Furnish an adequate apology
For the objective
Agglomeration of activities
Of a life
LIFE
A leap with nature
Into the essence
Of unpredicted Maternity
Against my thigh
Tough of infinitesimal motion
Scarcely perceptible
Undulation
Warmth moisture
Stir of incipient life
Precipitating into me

The contents of the universe
Mother I am
Identical
With infinite Maternity
Indivisible
Acutely
I am absorbed
Into
The was—is—ever—shall—be
Of cosmic reproductivity

Rises from the subconscious
Impression of a cat
With blind kittens
Among her legs
Same undulating life-stir
I am that cat

Rises from the sub-conscious
Impression of small animal carcass
Covered with blue bottles
—Epicurean—
And through the insects
Waves that same undulation of living
Death
Life
I am knowing
All about

Unfolding

The next morning
Each woman-of-the-people
Tiptoeing the red pile of the carpet
Doing hushed service
Each woman-of-the-people
Wearing a halo
A ludicrous little halo
Of which she is sublimely unaware

I once heard in a church
—Man and woman God made them—
Thank God.

17, The Pool © H. D.

Are you alive?
I touch you.
You quiver like a sea-fish.
I cover you with my net.
What are you—banded one?

18, Dawn © Jeni Couzyn

Of your hand I could say this
a bird poised mid-air in flight
as delicate and smooth.

Of your mouth
A foxglove in its taking
without edges or hurt.

This of your ear
a tiny sea-horse, immortal
sporting in white waves

and of your eye
a place where no one could hide
nothing lurk.

Of your cupped flesh
smooth in my palm
an agate on the sea-shore

of your back and belly
that they command kisses.
And of your feet I would say

they are inquisitive and gay
as squirrels or birds
and so return to your hand

and begin my voyage
around your loveliness
again and yet again
as in my arms you lie sleeping.

19, Prayer Before Birth © Louis MacNeice

I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born; console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
when they speak me, my thoughts when they think me,
my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
my life when they murder by means of my
hands, my death when they live me.

I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift and my children curse me.

I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
come near me.

I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistledown hither and
thither or hither and thither
like water held in the
hands would spill me.

Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.

20, Born Yesterday © Philip Larkin

For Sally Amis

Tightly-folded bud,
I have wished you something
None of the others would:
Not the usual stuff
About being beautiful,
Or running off a spring
Of innocence and love —
They will all wish you that,
And should it prove possible,
Well, you’re a lucky girl.

But if it shouldn’t, then
May you be ordinary;
Have, like other women,
An average of talents:
Not ugly, not good-looking,
Nothing uncustomary
To pull you off your balance,
That, unworkable itself,
Stops all the rest from working.
In fact, may you be dull —
If that is what a skilled,
Vigilant, flexible,
Unemphasised, enthralled
Catching of happiness is called.

21, Metaphors © Sylvia Plath

I’m a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.
Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.
I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there’s no getting off.

22, Finally We’ll Meet © Anonymous

I love you, little baby
You’re such a part of me.
Can’t wait to hold you in my arms,
And hug you tenderly.
No matter what you look like,
You’re beautiful, my love,
A precious gift bequeathed to me,
From heaven far above.
Each time I feel you moving,
My heart is filled with joy,
To think that very soon I’ll hold
My little girl or boy,
I’m counting every moment,
Til you’re mine at last, my sweet
It won’t be long until your birth,
Then finally we’ll meet.

23, Waking with Russell © Don Paterson

Whatever the difference is, it all began
the day we woke up face-to-face like lovers
and his four-day-old smile dawned on him again,
possessed him, till it would not fall or waver;
and I pitched back not my old hard-pressed grin
but his own smile, or one I’d rediscovered.
Dear son, I was mezzo del cammin
and the true path was as lost to me as ever
when you cut in front and lit it as you ran.
See how the true gift never leaves the giver:
returned and redelivered, it rolled on
until the smile poured through us like a river.
How fine, I thought, this waking amongst men!
I kissed your mouth and pledged myself forever.

24, Ultrasound © Rachel Richardson

Novel unbegun,
half-loaf rising,
lighthouse northward
and anchor south.

Lemon to grapefruit,
you sleep-step sidewise,
turnover, pop-up,
tongue in the mouth.

25, A New Father’s Questions © Jose Bernard

You come to me with sadness in your eyes,
And tell me we have to talk,
Immediately I think the worst,
‘Is it me? Does she want to walk?’

You try to begin, but don’t know how,
And my nerves are standing on end.
You say that you’re pregnant, two times confirmed,
And we may have a new little friend.

I’m speechless and breathless,
I can’t form words to say,
This isn’t what I expected,
Driving home today.

I know this is sudden,
And we haven’t prepared,
But we’ve been through so much already,
Look at all we’ve shared.

Now there’s another life,
Growing inside of you,
And I wonder what kind of Dad I’ll be,
Will our Child’s dreams come true?

Will I be the kind of father,
Who dotes upon his child?
Who fixes skinned knees,
With a smile, patient and mild?

Will I learn to chase the monsters,
From underneath their bed?
Will I be able to ease the nightmares,
From our child’s tiny head?

Will you shine as a mother?
Will contentment light your face?
Will it bring out even more beauty,
Which the passage of time could never erase?

Will you be the kind of mother,
Who worries each time our child is ill?
Each stuffy nose an emergency,
Or will you have more resolve than I will?

What will it look like?
Will it have your eyes?
Will it love us right away?
Will it look on us with surprise?

Will we learn to adjust to 2am cries?
Can we deal with late night feedings?
Will I cry in front of the Obstetrician,
The First time I hear our child’s heart beating?

Will it be a son or daughter?
Will it grow up to be like us?
Will we learn to deal with the crankiness,
When our baby starts to fuss?

These questions seem so pertinent,
More so now than they ever had,
I hope our child will love their mother,
As much as she’s loved by their Dad.

I’m scared and excited,
Hesitant and yet bold,
We’re going to be a family,
And our baby we’ll soon hold.

Will it be a boy or a girl?
I guess only time will tell

26, A Boy Or A Girl © Regina M. Linn

At first you moved,
only a little.
I could always find you,
right in the middle.

As time went on,
you really started to grow.
It wasn’t a whole lot,
in fact, it was rather slow.

Before I knew it,
you were all over the place.
It kind of felt like
you were running a race.

People would ask me
if you were a boy or a girl.
I would sit and wonder,
if you would have curls.

There are so many things
I really want to know.
But you are hidden inside,
so the answers don’t show.

How much will you weigh?
How tall will you be?
What color is your hair?
Will you even like me?

I hope and pray
you feel like you belong.
I never want you to feel
like you are alone.

Your Dad and I
planned you from the start.
You, my dear child,
were made straight from our hearts.

In about a week or so,
I’ll meet you, for the first time.
For you are the product
of your Dad’s love and mine.

There will be no one like you,
not any place in the world.
It really doesn’t matter
if you are a boy or a girl.

We are both so happy
that you even exist.
The gender doesn’t matter.
you’ll be hard to resist.

I hope I make you proud,
that I am your mother every day.
Because, you have filled my dreams
in more ways than words can say.

It won’t be long before
I can look you in the eyes.
I can feel the excitement growing,
I know I’m going to cry.

Don’t worry my angel,
those tears will be of joy.
It won’t matter to me
if you are a girl or a boy.

27, All Alone For Now © Rebekah S

It happened at the age of sixteen.
She was scared to look up at that screen.
Knowing there was a little heartbeat,
She would soon get kicked out to the street.
So she kneeled down to pray,
How could I make this go away?
The thought then came in her mind,
But she knew she could not cross that line.
She was scared and all alone
And knew she could not go home.
Life began to get too rough,
But she knew she had to be tough.
Just when she thought everyone had gone,
It happened at the light of dawn.
When she woke up in that room,
She then started to bloom.
Seeing the sight of her little girl,
With her red hair and that one tiny curl.
She knew her life was now complete,
Hearing her daughter’s healthy heartbeat.

28, To My Precious Child © Julie K. Ross

Whether you’re a little girl
Or a little boy
Just knowing that you’re on your way
Fills my heart with joy.

You’ll learn that you’re my miracle
For you I’ve waited long
You’ll see it in my poetry
Maybe even in a song.

May you always know what love is
From our whole family
That, my little angel,
Is a promise straight from me.

I hope you grow up strong and smart
Because you stayed in school
Intelligence will be your art
Wisdom will be your tool.

You can be whatever you want to be
As long as you put your mind to it
Whenever you hit a rough spot, though,
I’ll be there to see you through it.

Whether it’s music, dance or even sports
I’ll let you try it all
We’ll shop for tights and soccer shorts
Downtown at the local mall.

I’m not sure of what else to say right now
‘Cause I’ve really said a lot
You’ll learn to understand me
‘Cause I’m the only Mom you’ve got!