Ode to Sciatic Pain

In the spirit of other much more talented poets, here is my attempt at a poem. Emily Dickinson, I am not.

Entitled: Ode to Sciatic Pain.

OHCH.
DAMIT OUCH.
I have never hurt this much before.
I have HOW many weeks to go?
The doctor better not be lying,
or I will be a crying,
that this pain will end with her birth.

Now that I have suffered,
through all this pain,
her teenage years better be a breeze,
because her head is already on my nerves.

The pain, it drains. It stings, it never wanes.
Sometimes I can stand pain free,
but when I sit, OUCHEE.

I want an epidural, right here right now.
Just hook it up for the next 4 months,
so I can pick up the stuff that falls to the floor.

Did I say that this HURTS????
Did I mention I am really tired of the pain?
Did I mention that I want some relief?

I wish I could tie my shoes, shave my legs, paint my toes.
I wish I could sit and type, sleep all night, stop whining of my woes.
I want to walk normal, sit normal, be pain free.
I have learned great sympathy for those who have chronic pain.

I could really, very quickly become a drug addict.
But the doc says no to the lortabs.
See they can cause babies to be small,
she is already small enough.

So I see the chiropractor,
and he waves my leg in the air.
and I pray for relief,
and I pray for strength to bear.

Seriously, what was I thinking?
I keep hoping that this is the worst.
Pain I can tolerate, other worries are worse.
I'll put up with this pain until June,
because this pain means she is in there, alive, and growing everyday.