Over the last week I have opened up truths about the last year to a new friend. It wasn’t painful to be honest for once, it was refreshing. But something was painful.
I decided to write a short play for an event, which I did. Then I thought I should get back to the play I started writing last year. I found it and read through it again to remind myself where I needed to write more. That’s when it got painful. I threw my soul into those words and they bit me. I felt melancholy and close to tears the rest of the day, only feeling better when meeting the earlier mentioned friend.
Yesterday, I played the song I wrote almost a year ago which defines the miscarriage for me. I’ve played it a number of times but, this time, I started crying. Maybe it is just tiredness or maybe everything is feeling raw at the moment.
My husband thinks that it is the time of year. It is a year since I started writing again and I started learning to recover. Looking back on who I was then is like looking at a different person most of time time. I can sometimes see that anger though, glinting back up. I walk with my nephew and people smile at me. I don’t have that in the rest of my life.
Being a mother changes the way the world views you. Being a mother without a child changes the way you view the world.
Parallel lives, parallel worlds
Looking left and right at all that could be
Seeing the joy, seeing the sadness
Seeing the heartbreak bestowed on me
Now that you’re gone, returned to the ground
Now that you’re gone…
…I fear I’ll be found.
The hardest thing
Is when people don’t know.
Comments pass by
Each one a blow.
The missing mention
Life was not good.
The jealous pangs
When people talk about
The laughter and smiles
Before forced to shout
At their beautiful gift
Present and true.
But I lost my gift.
I lost you.
The sun warms my aching mind
Torn up over the life that has passed me by
A year of wonder, a year of pain
A year of not knowing if I’ll be the same
As once I was, just 12 months ago
As once I was when you made me whole.
The sun warms my healing heart
Reminding me that all things scar
They make us stronger, they make us stand tall
They show us that we recover when we fall
Down upon the worst of luck but, with love
I will always make it up.
One year ago.
One. Whole. Year.
One whole year since I first saw a faint line
And my life changed.
I’m not who I was
No longer that girl
The one with endless hope and smiles
Free from heartbreak.
Now I’m broken
Pieced back together, day by day, hour by hour.
Longing for that different life.
Tested and challenged;
Triumphed and defeated;
Discovering new limits and realms of me –
My heart still breaks when I think of how
I could have been meeting you
My body failed my heart which loved
A soul, destined to depart.
My love is pure as pure can be
For the soul too pure to face this world
Acceptance, my current state of grief
Believing heaven holds the best of me.
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.
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.
Am I betraying your memory
If I choose to stop?
Did you have a memory for me to betray?
Sometimes I think it would be easier if
And let all of the past disappear.
It hurts that I had to let you go
I’m thankful for what I’ve gained from it.
Losing you was worse than I could have thought
And yet –
Do I regret it?
I wish you could splash through the bubbling brook
Creating a world full of chaos.
Instead I sit and watch the still stream
Still chaotic but
Invisible to see.