United with my mother

There is an uneasiness that has settled itself in my stomach
and being female, as sex was selected at birth without doubt
or understanding I check for signs that narrate something else
I think of my mother without confession, without shame
of where my thought went, of how at four we start saying
that girls cannot ask, the men will give them the answers
later, not now, when you grow you will know
I learnt by myself, no secrets in shame
there is a belly-ache tonight that lingers beyond my attempts
at medicating a thing I cannot see, cannot change nor control
this is a shame, would be a beginning
I am half sick with a flu and all I can keep in my head is a sentence:
is this how mothers feel before birth, after desire?