The Loss

8 months.
That’s how long it has been since I
found out about
you.
They said you were -37 weeks old
as if the life growing inside of my stomach
drinking my nutrients
formed from my flesh
taking up the smallest fraction of my womb
somehow managed to inhabit
negative space.
I said, grinning,
“No. She is 3 weeks young!”
And they said
“It is gone.”…
7 months.
That’s how long it has been since I’ve lost you and
it has been exactly 0 days since I’ve forgotten about you.
The moment you were conceived
I felt your presence accumulating inside of me;
a mustard-seed sized miracle
perfectly forming your father’s smile and
mommy’s eyes
and I knew you were someone special.
But they said “it is gone”
and I kept on asking “what is ‘it’ and where did ‘it’ go?”
and they just said “it is gone.”
And as swiftly as you were there, you were absent
leaving a gaping hole in my womb which
at that moment in time and subsequently every moment after
seemed to house my heart.
There have been attempts at explaining why,
none of which have provided me with any comfort.
“There could have been something wrong with the fetus.” or
“Sometimes, our bodies just dismiss pregnancies.” or
“This is all part of God’s plan, even if we don’t understand it.” or
“Maybe it just wasn’t time.”
But it was time.
For 8 months it had been time again and again and
I took THREE tests to make sure you were really there and
I tracked everything perfectly and
I even held my legs straight up in the air! and
I…
and I
and I
I wanted you so. fucking. much.
“I would have loved her regardless!” I plead.
With doctors.
With God.
With anyone
anyone who could maybe, possibly, put you back.
Addison. That is what your daddy called you but
I can only call out your name in my dreams
as if I scream loud enough,
that place where my subconscious meets the untouchable
will create a mountain of a belly for me to touch when I awake.
I always wake up disappointed.

You would have had your father’s smile
and your mommy’s eyes.

 

Miscarriage. The word in and of itself is enough to send chills down my spine. I had heard of women miscarrying, but it never occurred to me that it could actually happen to me. My husband, son and I had ventured into the mountains for a snow-capped vacation. On the same day that we left, I was due to get my period. For all the mommy’s out there who have been trying to get pregnant, we have this down to a science. We know EXACTLY how we feel, we know exactly when we are due, we waste countless pregnancy test the day before our period is due “just in case”. So, it comes as no surprise that as the day came and went, I knew I was pregnant. I waited a few days, just to “make sure”, and then felt confident enough that my heart wouldn’t break with this pregnancy test (as I had wasted countless dollars, energy and tears on taking a test the day before my period was due, just in case, only to end up heart broken at yet another negative test). So, I took the test. And another. And another. And they all said the same thing: pregnant. I was ecstatic. Elated. Completely beside myself.

A week later, I bled. And just like that, she was gone. Now, I know what some of you are thinking: yes, I knew about my pregnancy for only one week. Yes, I am aware that some women don’t even know that they are pregnant at this point in time. Yes, I know that it may seem ridiculous. Yes, you may judge me all you want. But, I am human. And a loss is a loss. Dr. Seuss said it best: “A person is a person, no matter how small” and this person was so incredibly meaningful to me. There was nothing on the planet I wanted more than to have a baby, and it completely tore me up when I had a baby within reach and then torn from my life in no time at all.

In all of my life, I have never known how to handle grief. I can tackle just about everything that this world has to throw at me, but when it comes down to dealing with a loss, I’m dumbfounded. This particular loss, though, was a whole new territory that I was totally ill prepared for. This loss was a loss of a life that my husband and I created together. This loss was a loss that I couldn’t comprehend. There was nothing in the world that anyone could say to me that would make it better. There wasn’t a single explanation that would wave away the tremendous ache that formed.

1 in every 10 pregnancies end in miscarriage. Most of these miscarriages occur within the first 3 months of pregnancy. My miscarriage is a “typical” miscarriage. Because it was so early, I’ll never have an answer as to why it happened, it just did. And I think that’s the worst part. There isn’t a reason. There isn’t an explanation. It just happened. I lost my baby. Our baby.

What I do know is this: everyone handles it differently. Some women grieve briefly, then swiftly move forward and try, try again! Other women take time to heal, questioning whether they even want to try out of fear that they will feel that much pain again. Others fall somewhere in between. If this has happened to you, rest assured that what you are feeling is perfectly normal, acceptable and totally yours. Allow yourself to feel it, be patient with yourself and give yourself time to heal.

A Note To A New Mother

Motherhood is such a blessing. Your body isn’t solely yours anymore—it’s a shared space—a temple for you to thrive in and a home that provides nurture and safety for your baby to flourish. From the day you came to know of your little miracle growing within you, a special place in your heart, a place you never even knew existed, started to take shape. With every doctor’s appointment, every preparation made, every pound gained, every kick felt, every baby-name list read and every song sung, that special place in your heart grew.

“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” –Elizabeth Stone

Motherhood is unparalleled. Everything you’ve ever known about love is about to change. Being a mother is an experience that you simply cannot replicate; nor can you ever know the love of a mother until you are one. It is a love that is endless, stable, unconditional, forgiving, and relentless—it is a love that grows with every touch, every smile, every minute, every second and every moment.

“Motherhood: The only place you can experience heaven and hell at the same time.” –Anonymous

Motherhood is the biggest change you will ever experience. Yes, gravity will pull everything down that you’ve once admired for being perky. Yes, your body will change in ways you didn’t realize were humanly possible. Yes, you will have “mommy marks” on your belly, thighs and even arms—reminders that you are a warrior that nurtured and carried your precious baby—reminders of the safety that your child will always find within you. Yes, you will lose sleep, forget appointments, run late, skip on doing your make up, lose your temper, wash your hair twice in the shower, sport food-stains on your clothes and even lose parts of yourself in this new-found mommy-hood… But, do not be alarmed. These changes are necessary, these changes are beautiful, these changes are perfect—because these changes will, ultimately, mold you into the amazing mother that I know you will be—the mother that you already are.

“A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for.” –Anonymous

Motherhood is a learning process. You will not get everything right. You will question your decisions. You will become overwhelmed. You will cry. You will scream. You will make mistakes. When these moments of trouble arise, take a deep breath, relax, and rest assured that you are doing the best job you can. Learn to forgive yourself and be patient with yourself. I promise: your baby will love you regardless. After all, there is no one on this planet that is better suited to be your baby’s mother than you.

“A baby is born with a need to be loved—and never outgrows it.” –Frank A. Clark

Motherhood is the ultimate gift. You get the joy (and pain… but I promise, it’s worth it) of birthing a beautiful, innocent, precious new life into the world—a spectacular collision of traits of you and your partner. This brand new life is a blank slate that you have the amazing opportunity of molding into someone who is sure to succeed. Treasure every single moment you have with him because, before you know it, those little moments will pass. Be patient when he just wants to cry. Hold his hand when he needs comfort. Sing him lullabies when he can’t sleep. Kiss his boo-boo’s “all better”. Remind him just how much he is loved. But most importantly: Be his mommy.

I wish you a beautiful journey.

Half Measure

Allow my eyes their lowered glare

Forgotten words and hymns

Judge not upon their wandering words

The long repressing sins

 

Allow my music glaring loud

Emotions will run free

Touch not any fragile belongings

Belonging once to me

 

My chariot is coming

To take me towards the sun

These are my lasting words for you

Sweet penmanship, undone

I Am Me.

I am hopelessly impatient

and never late.

I am completely insane

yet genuinely sound.

I hate the cold

but love the winter.

I am always honest

and unspeakably nervous.

I love who I am

yet hate what I see.

I have no regrets

but would do things differently if given the chance.

I sing in the shower

and dance through the rain.

I lay awake through lightning storms

yet sleep through the sun.

I drive too fast

but always stare at the scenery.

I have brushed death more than once

and won.

I am deathly afraid of attachment

yet completely open to love.

I do not trust easily

but speak openly.

I have a pure heart

and an unforgettable smile.

I will never know all the answers

yet will always search.

I will never see the world

but will always dream.

I cry for uncountable reasons

and laugh for none at all.

I paint abstract pictures

yet aim for clarity.

I have many flaws

but diamonds are always found in the rough.

I know who I was

am clueless on who I am

but I am still content.

I write poetry to remember

then sing songs to forget..

I am unique.

I am the same.

I am strong.

I am weak.

I am me.