Reflections: who I was and who I am.

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.

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Poem 82

The hardest thing

Is when people don’t know.

Comments pass by

Each one a blow.

The missing mention

About motherhood

All because

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.

Poem 80

Remember me
When you look in your mind
Remember me
And then you will find
Glimpses of the person
You knew that I was
Shimmers of the person
No longer with us.
But, look closer
And then you will see
She’s there in the shadows
Hiding from me.
Biding her time
Until she’s ready to be
That brave, stronger person
That brave, stronger me.

Poem 77

One year ago

The heartbeat stopped

The screen stayed monotone

You were gone.

It stopped before

I heard it beat,

I heard it echo,

Dead, not asleep.

You were gone before

That dreadful day

The day my life changed

My faith went astray.

One year ago

How can it be

That time has passed without

You, already?

Forever here

In my senses you’ll be

My otherworldly child

In my company.

Mother without a child

All the children scream “Happy Mother’s Day”
They fawn and cuddle with delight
Presenting gifts with hushed tones
Hoping that they got it right.

Their mothers get spoilt and pampered
Enjoying a day that’s for them
Happy that their smiling faces
Are maybe behaving again.

But what of those childless mothers
How do they celebrate this day?
Always longing that they will be presented with
A card simply saying “Mummmy”

They’ve never experienced the joy of today
From the view of the mother, not child
But a mother they still are, even though
Their child passed before being alive.

On Mother’s Day we join to celebrate
Throw gifts onto our creators
But spare a thought, my dear friend
For the mums who have lost their creations.

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.

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.

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.