Poem 67

Broken hearts and shattered souls
A vacant life to behold
The wonders of what could have been
Has this year finally won?

Acceptance that I will not be
Alright, right now at least
Give me some time, I will return
A stronger, safer, me.

I trust that what has been is right
That fate made it all so
And with this truth I look forward to
The next act of my show.

For who can predict how we will be
A trigger, large or small
Can set us to be safe and free
Or make us fail it all.

I choose to be the me I was
Though hard as it may be
Life will not beat me anymore
I will fight to return to me.

Poem 66

Lost in a cloud

Floating below

Covered by mists that won’t let me show

Who I am

Who I once was

That smiling face, filled with love.

Echoes of laughter

Reverberate here

Under the cover of hidden fear

Slowly revealing

The shadows of hope

Creeping and claiming the one who was stole.

Found in a cloud

Risen above

Let me be seen, let me see love.

Poem 65

Thankful.
That’s what I am.
One foot in front of the other
Leading me to an escape.

My feet are working
My body healing by escaping
Walking in the air and being,
Free.

One step
Two step
The steps now all come.
Broken for so long but free to move now.

Freedom.
Steps.
Life shines happy when the air hits my face.
Time to escape and live
My
Real
Life.

12 weeks on

Today marks 12.5 weeks since I found out about my missed miscarriage and 12 weeks since the physical miscarriage happened. In these 12 weeks, I have learnt more about myself than I ever wanted to know and I have become more dependent on people than I have ever been before. There have been good days and there have been bad days. Typically the good outnumber the bad but the last week or two has been particularly difficult and the balance has been off.

I wanted to write this for anyone who is struggling with a miscarriage, whether it is them or a friend/family member who has experienced it. The most important piece of information I have received is this:

You are allowed to grief. You have experienced a loss in the family. If it was someone people in the family knew about, you’d be allowed to grief: this is no different.

Those words were spoken to me by my counsellor. I have avoided going to counselling for many years but, with this, I reached the stage where I couldn’t avoid it any more. My counsellor has made me feel more validated than any other person who has tried to help me, my husband included. I am lucky enough to have a wonderful support network but, even with that network, I feel like I am failing sometimes by having such a strong reaction to the miscarriage. It is important to remember that feeling is not failing. When I’ve had moments where I am really struggling, I have told certain people whom I really trust and I get responses back like:

Well don’t be too hard on yourself. Your head’s doing whatever it needs to do.

Upon telling a friend that I am going to counselling, she said that she thought I was amazing to be tackling it full force and how much she admired me for it. It has given me that strength to keep pushing through on the bad days. I’ve learnt that there is no shame in needing to remove myself from situations that are just too much for me, even if someone else could cope. We each recover differently and that is the key thought for recovering from a miscarriage. Different people feel differently. I seem to be struggling more than other people I know who have had miscarriages but that is OK. 12 weeks on I have learnt that lesson – I hope anyone else reading this can learn it sooner.

Thank you for listening.

P.S. After 64 poems published consecutively, there may be a little break as the writing is dependent on my mood. That being said, I wrote 5 in one day the other week so maybe they will pick up again.

Poem 64

Why do my eyes do this?

Crying for no reason

My brain flooding with unexpected emotion

Through the ducts, channelling my face.

Life’s uncertainties overwhelm

The seratonin struggles to balance

What can I do to make the world seem

Focused –

Full of acceptance?

I don’t understand this wave of … something

Rushing, coursing, debilitating.

For now I guess I’ll survive.

Somehow.

Poem 63

Sickness

The thought brings me sickness

The thought of carrying another child

Dread at the positive.

I don’t know what I’d do

I fear it more than I knew

That dependence of a creature

On my afflicted, tortured soul.

Who knows when I’ll be ready?

Time can measure but not predict

My delicate mind aching with terror

At a future not yet writ.

Poem 62

“You’ve never failed before”

The words were spoken

“At least not when it mattered”:

Unhelpful remarks to a damaged girl.

The empty womb a reminder of

A fail? Compare my loss.

It wasn’t of my doing

I failed not – it wasn’t me

That caused my life such ruin.

Words like such restrict the healing

Well intended though received in harm

You have failed to express your true meaning.

Failure?

I have failed none.

Poem 61

I fear that I’ll fail to keep my grip

On the good moods in life

That the dark thoughts will overcome

The ongoing fight.

I push the darkness away

But the words attach deep

They cut the good into the ground

Ready to sow new seeds.

I’ll wish and I’ll pray that new moods flower

To sustain this decaying body of mine.

A week, a month, a year before

The return –

will I ever be fine?

Poem 60

What would you think if you met me today?

Would you be sad or happy to see me?

So affected by your loss have I been that

You might not recognise this being.

My mind has been fractured, destroyed by the pain

The grief, the anger, the heartbreak

But my body only bears one scar

From when I tried to end it.

If you could see how you’re loved

And how your death has wrecked me

Maybe you wouldn’t have gone.

Your life could have saved me.

Poem 59

I feel weak for not being the version of me

Who understands and copes with what has gone wrong

The version who accepts that pain is good and that

Bottling only causes harm.

I hate that I can’t be free from these thoughts

Taking over my mind like a wraith

Digging into the trenches and

Pouring concrete to make them stay.

Breaking the thoughts is the hardest thing

Aside from surviving with your loss

I wish I could break the pain of my heart

Now that my love is lost.