Nat’l Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day

Last year, on National Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day, I posted my story of loss, which you can read here if you so desire.

It’s been a year and a half since my miscarriage now, but there are still nights where my grief is crushingly present. I am triggered by the oddest things. For instance, when I found out that a friend is due on February 8th, the day I miscarried, I laid in bed and cried. Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled for her, but her February 8th and mine will always be very different types of anniversaries, and being reminded of what I should’ve had, and what I did have, is heartbreaking. The memories I have of that day have not yet softened with time.

Here’s the worst part of my lingering grief, though: Every time I think about the child I could have had, I am overwhelmed with guilt because I have an amazing little boy who wouldn’t be in my life it weren’t for that loss. Grieving my miscarriage feels like a betrayal to Atticus.

These feelings aren’t rational, I know, and I would tell anyone else who felt this way that they should grieve as long and as hard as they need, and that grieving one loss does not diminish the love you have for your other children. Easier said than done, I suppose.

So, since writing anything else about this will only increase my guilt, I’m sharing a poem I wrote in the aftermath of my loss instead. If it rings true to you, I hope you find comfort in knowing you are not alone.

Your Poem (2-8-14)

your poem started with anticipation
and joy
with two blue lines on a thin white stick

it started with smiles
and nausea
and tiny socks
with plans
and scribbles of names on scraps of paper
with a belly that had just started to grow

i thought your poem would be seven months longer
that there would be
blurry photos of a uterus
a heartbeat
a nursery
contractions

but when i sat down to write
what came out was
blood
and cramps
and a trip to the ER
where you fell away like the leaves in october
when you were going to emerge

so your poem ended early
with you the size of a sesame seed
with words as heavy as my heart

-kbp

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About whatkittydid

I'm a crafter, a feminist, a reader, a mom, and a cat-lover.

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