Poem 86

I often wonder

Could it be

That in another world

You kept me.

This other world

Joyful and bright

Kept us together

Every night.

The other me

Watches and sees

The sadness in

My reality.

She whispers down

“Have faith, be you

For one day soon

Your dream will come true”.

I hear a whisper

Across the ground

Across the sky

That echoing sound

Proclaiming that

My future will be

Happy with you.

You’ll be with me.

Advertisements

Poem 84

A broken face

Once full of dreams

Glints with memories of what could have been

If futures had altered

And paths foreseen

The shadows of the world, within.

I see the path

That calls to you

Whispering and dragging, pulling you to

The way that life

Is meant to be lived

Full of smiles, truths, and wonderment.

I beckon you

One day to see

What you deserve; you deserve to be free.

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.

One year on

It has been one year since the worst day of my life: the day that honestly changed my life completely.

I wish I could say that I knew I was better for it but, in all honesty, I imagine that my baby is with me every day. I look at what I’m doing and think of how different my life would be right now if that heartbeat was still going.

In the year since my missed miscarriage, I have:

  • Been diagnosed with depression
  • Had grief counselling
  • Self harmed for the first time
  • Undergone CBT
  • Had a PCOS (polycystic ovaries syndrome) diagnosis confirmed
  • Suffered from stress so badly I wasn’t eating.
  • Been diagnosed as prediabetes.

It has been one hell of a year. However, in that time I have also:

  • Become an auntie
  • Seen 5 friends/family members get married
  • Seen friends become parents
  • Made lots of new friends, including some who will definitely be forever friends
  • Performed music live again
  • Completed two charity swim events, raising £1000.
  • Rebuilt my relationship with my sister
  • Opened up about my problems to my family.

That last point may not seem that important because I open up on here but, in person, I keep my problems very much to myself. I have become much better at knowing that it is ok to show weakness and need to get support from people. This has partly helped rebuild my relationship with my sister. That and her supportiveness about the miscarriage all while she was pregnant herself. She has kept me as involved as I want in my nephew’s life, even giving me permission to come round and cuddle him whenevers I want because he is the thing that is guard to make my face light up again.

This year has caused an incredible transformation. Do I wish it had never happened? Of course. But I also recognise that I cannot change what has passed. If I let myself try, I will go insane. I remind myself to be thankful for the things that I do have and hope that everything has happened for a reason.

Poem 75

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
And re-formed
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 –
Destroyed?
Recovered?
Just being.

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 39

My heart has learned to dream again

In daytime and in night

The flighty forces floating through

No longer filled with fright.

The desire for happiness is building up

That gentle release of calm

It lightens me and makes me see

I am still who I am.

Enlightened sleep filled with everlasting hope

Of smiles and laughter, being free

The clocks have turned, the cogs don’t yearn

To escape. There’s once again glee.

Poem 37

The cold metal pressed against my arm

Readying for the release of liquid terror

Anticipating pain on a marked form

Suspended thoughts fighting the blade.

Time passes and still, no terror flows

The flesh freezes with unexpected contact

Too long has passed and it won’t be done

The action admitting the yearning cry.

Desperation for a physical mark to show

Bearing on behalf of the wounded mind

That organ so twisted and tortured in anguish

Yet hidden behind an ever false smile.

The metal releases, now warm from the fight

Stowed away ready for the war next night.

People for whom I am thankful

If I hadn’t miscarried, I would be having my 20 week scan around now. Instead, I have spent the last 8 weeks trying to recover and accept what has happened.

I am lucky enough to be one of those people who makes friends easily. As such, I have gotten closer to people since the miscarriage and they have become invaluable confidantes. I have started trying to see the positives in things and my friendships with these people have been the glimmer of hope emerging from this miscarriage. Thank you, all of you.

R – The epitome of support. This person will say that they are selfish but their unwavering support for me has been one of the most important things over the last couple of months. We grew close in this time for many reasons and have discovered a mutual understanding of mental health issues. This has allowed us to become support nets for each other, although they haven’t needed me to support them yet. Even when topics have gotten difficult and have the potential to trigger their own problems, they haven’t shied away. Instead, they have guided me and encouraged me when I haven’t accepted what I need, being my external Jiminy Cricket whilst the internal one is on sabbatical. Thank you for opening up to me and allowing me to open up to you without judgement or pause.

F – This person has helped without even knowing they are helping I believe. Whenever I see them, they tell me that they love my face. If ever there was a way to put an instant smile on someones face, that is it. Such an endorphin rush for something so silly. They laugh and smile with me, infectious giggling overtaking us on many an occasion. It has been vital for me to have someone around like this person as, when I am vulnerable, I react on how other people are feeling. They also saved me in a way that they don’t know. I was ready to harm myself, the day before I actually harmed myself, and they texted me. It was a random text which had no importance, apart from that it started off a conversation which stunted the urge to harm myself. There are no words to describe my thankfulness for that action.

J – I think I have found my (platonic) soulmate in J. We have such incredible respect for each other whilst both wanting to spend time together whenever feasible. There are few people I have opened up to so quickly and the same is true for them. When I start to feel bad again, I will remember that I’ve created a brilliant friendship due to the miscarriage and hold onto that with all of my strength. Love you J!

I want to make a special mention as well to M who is an old friend and therefore doesn’t fall into the above words. M accepts me for who I am, troubles and all. When I told them that I had harmed myself, they accepted it and offered support in whatever way I needed it. They didn’t appear shocked or distressed, just understanding. The act that shocked them was me revealing that I had stopped listening to music for a period of time. I’d had no desire. Music is like our spines to the both of us – without it, we crumble. I still haven’t quite got the craving I used to have for music back but it is getting there.

Poem 36

Relief bites like a sweet fruit

Oozing its juices down every crevice

Breaking into the hitherto undiscovered

Cuts, and scars, not yet formed.

Releasing the words that break up the inside

Opening the wounds that never quite healed

Rinsing with all the vowels and consonants

That make up the powerful cure of evil.

The tension has lifted with each passing verb

Describing the pain of lessons not fully learned

Each syllable meeting important steps

To recover the individual who had left.

Rebuild and recover, be all you can be

Using words to find wisdom in safe company

A generous ear heals the broken soul

But the saviour, their effect, they’ll never know.