Sweet Pea

I don’t know why we called you Sweet Pea,
probably because having you was sweet
and you were about the size of a pea.
You were about the size of a pea
when we joked about calling you Rocky
and marvelled at my growing breasts and belly. 
How can it all swell so much when you 
are only the size of a pea? I think I maybe 
wore my maternity clothes too soon. 
You were about the size of a pea
when we made announcements to expectant 
grandparents and laughed as they said, ‘about time’. 
When you grew to the size of an apple, golden and delicious, 
the sonographer left the room for a second opinion.
I don’t think that she needed the second opinion,
cold jelly on swelling belly, I was exposed. 
We could see it, though. One heart, 
not two. Mine, not yours. 
In springtime I planted sweet peas in the garden  
but I could never find you there.