Trigger Warning: Pregnancy Loss
Please be advised that the following poem is related to pregnancy loss. Please read at your own
Laying on the table of your second scan. Waiting to see you. Button undone. Gel applied. Wand hovers over. We saw you only three weeks earlier. Heartbeat flickering. Life. You were there.
OB removes wand. “I’m sorry. There’s no heartbeat. Take a minute and then we’ll talk.”
And gestures to husband. “Hug her”.
And my face crumbles and my heart breaks and I can’t breathe.
Numb shuffle to button up pants. Numb shuffle to slide off the table. Numb shuffle to join the men at the desk. Lots of talking but all I can think of is you. Where did you go?
I got to hold onto you a week longer. A little bean in my body before you had to leave. I placed my hands over you in the night when it was quiet and we were alone. What happened to that flickering heart? What happened to the life that you had? Why couldn’t you continue to grow and meet us the way you intended to?
There was a birthday party.
“When are you having another?” Not sure.
“Do you want a wine?” No thanks.
“At least you can drink now.” WTF?
My blood still runs through your little body. We are still connected. This time is our time. In a few days you will leave me and I will be alone again. I talk to you often. I hold you often.
I asked for another scan to see you. I couldn’t accept that you were no longer there. I sat in waiting room with all the bellies and I signed the forms to let them take you away.
And then the day came that you had to leave. I knew you had already gone. Your spirit was free but your body hadn’t let go. So we helped you let go.
I often think about the day you went away. Should we have waited longer, should we have taken you home, should we have had a prayer or service? But it never would have changed the fact that you were gone. My belly was now empty. I tried to think of all the things you would have experienced while you were with me for ten weeks. Warmth. Love. Maybe felt my heart race as I rode a bike. Maybe felt your body jiggle as I paddled in the ocean. Devoured the fresh sea air in the form of oxygen through your placenta. Felt the excited rush when I opened Christmas gifts and more! But then I remember all the things you didn’t get to experience. And all the things I didn’t get to experience with you and it hurts too much.
We later found out that you were genetically healthy and you were a girl. These things just happen sometimes. Maybe your heart wasn’t strong. Maybe something went wrong as you were knitted together. We shall never know. But a girl. You were a girl! I imagined the baby you would have become. The toddler. The child. Would you have had brown hair or blonde? Blue eyes or green? Would you have been quiet and content or loud and courageous? Would you have made a mark on the world? You made a mark on mine.
When I was pregnant with you a dragonfly came to visit us and now whenever I see them it reminds me of you. I see them in the strangest of places. Even when there’s no water around. And people give them to me knowingly and unknowingly. A notebook in the mailbox. An item of clothing with them on. A card. A necklace. They visit me in the garden. They find me where ever I am. I’ve held them in my palm of my hand and watched them land on my near by. I’ve photographed them and videoed them and convinced myself that they visit everyone else too.
But when I see them I think of you. The baby that went away.
Written anonymously – Mum of Four (three earth side and one in our hearts forever)
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