Poem 74

I walk down the long and winding road

Such beautiful views to see

Until I reach a fork in the path

The choice is up to me.

To follow the hopes and dreams and fear

Of not achieving what could be

Or to risk it all and be able to say

At least I came home safely.

The decision, it rests on who I am

At this single moment in my life

The me of darkness, full of pain

The lacklustre me full of strife.

Which path to choose, new hope could there be

Down the path invitingly green

“Take a chance and you’ll see your right to be free”

It calls so temptingly.

To go left or go right

My feet remain still

I’m floored, I’m stuck

There’s no free will.

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Poem 73

It’s tiring
Pretending to be strong
My facade is effective
While the inside crumbles.
It’s hard to admit
The unwilling wallowing within
I can’t be the me
That I used to be.
Imbalanced and confused
No easy way to define
The feelings that
Overwhelm – pride.
I can’t admit
For the world to see
All my struggles are there
If you look closely.
See the hollow eye
Now devoid of its smile
It occasionally fills but
Is it a lie?
There once was a smile
For the world to see
You still see that facade
But there is no more me.

Never met due date

Today should be a day we celebrate
A day filled with joy, and pain
A day we meet a new life
And our life has some gain
But instead today we miss all things
The beauty of new life
Sadness overwhelms
Why can’t I have that life?
A pair of lungs that screams and screams
Until comforted by me
They settle info rhythmic rasps
With synchronicity.
Your time, it was not meant to be
Unhelpful as that knowledge is
I must go on, but I will remember
Your life that was never lived.

Poem 71

I’d give all my heartbeats

To have you here

Lying awake, screaming

Not sleeping or dreaming

But wanting me near.

Though by losing you

I’ve come to see

How much more I would cherish

The siblings you’ll

Never meet.

Every moment of pain

Whilst carrying their form

I’ll try not to complain

For a miracle will be born.

Every restless night

And aching back

I’ll think and love

– You gave me that.

For though you left this world

Before you could be

Your mark is irreplaceable

You’ve forever marked me.

Poem 70

I look in the mirror and all I can see

Is desires, promised of what could have been

What should have been if you’d be here

Instead my mortal flesh now drowned in despair.

If you were here my eyes would shine

Sparkling with futures yet unknown

My cheeks would ache from all the smiles

Tired hands massaging the tired bones.

My furrowed brow still furrowed with you

Through worry rather than feeling blue

And my ears would listen, ever alert

Fearing a cry that signals hurt.

I look in the mirror and all I can see

Is the loneliness of being, the loneliness of me.

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.