Poem // When we lost you

When we found you,
I was overjoyed.
I was scared.
I didn’t know how I would
cope with three of you.
All of you under five,
but I knew I would cope.
I knew I would survive.
You may have ‘just’ been
a bundle of cells.
But to me,
to me,
You were so much more
than ‘just’ a bundle of cells.
To me you were joy.
Happiness.
New life.
A vision of the future.
A baby.
A family member.
The last piece of the jigsaw.
You were a beacon of light
in the darkness.
You were a person,
to me.
I was your mummy.
I am your mummy;
I knew you were there.
The exhaustion I felt;
I knew you were there.
The implantation cramps;
I knew you were there.
I spoke to you;
My bundle of cells.
I sang to you;
My bundle of cells.
I held my tummy.
I held my tummy while
I closed my eyes
and imagined your life.
I imagined you.
I could see you.
And then you were gone.
You were no longer there.
And I was empty once more.
“It wasn’t even a baby yet.”
“It was ‘just’ a bundle of cells.”
“At least you weren’t any further along.”
“It wasn’t the right time.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
But you were so much more
than ‘just’ a bundle of cells.
You were my child.
And when we lost you,
I lost a part of me.

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been a bit quiet on the original writing front on the blog recently. At the end of May I suffered a miscarriage. I was only 4-5 weeks pregnant, and it wasn’t a planned pregnancy, but the loss took its toll on me mentally, and consequently I’ve really been struggling to write. I’m sure I’ll be back to complaining about sleep deprivation and writing about my caffeine addiction shortly.

It’s taken me months to build up the courage to actually post this, but after a couple of very useful conversations with my mum and a good friend, I realised it’s something we all need to talk about – otherwise it eats you up inside. When we suffer a miscarriage – especially an early miscarriage – we are just expected to get on with our lives as if nothing has happened. But something life-altering has happened, and with around 1 in 4 pregnancies resulting in miscarriage, we really should be able to talk about it (when we feel ready) without our feelings, and the process of miscarriage, being belittled. It is a loss, and we should therefore be allowed time to grieve.

Hannah

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9 Comments

  1. 10th October 2016 / 9:17 am

    I’m so sorry to hear this I know there is nothing anyone can say to make it better, but I really hope you’re ok xxx

    • Hannah
      Author
      10th October 2016 / 10:02 am

      I’m in a much better place now thank you. The summer in Sussex really helped me to heal xx

  2. Franki ~ Wonderful Chaos
    10th October 2016 / 9:25 am

    Oh Hannah, I don’t even know what to say apart from I’m so so sorry! Sending you much love, to both you and Nick. You know where I am if you ever need me for a chat. Xx

    • Hannah
      Author
      10th October 2016 / 10:02 am

      Thanks lovey. I’m in a much better place now as I allowed myself time to grieve xxx

  3. Carie @ Space for the Butterflies
    10th October 2016 / 12:01 pm

    Oh my dear, I’m so sorry to hear this - welcome to the club you never wanted to join. Just be gentle with yourself and keep breathing. I won’t say it gets better because you can never go back to the before of something so fundamentally life altering, but it does with time just become a part of who you are. Much love and hugs x

  4. 10th October 2016 / 1:38 pm

    Oh Hannah, I’m so sorry to hear this. Having a miscarriage at any stage is an awful thing and I can’t say whether it gets better or not as I’m still trying to work that out - I realise this is not helpful in the slightest! Our little bundle was five and a half weeks when we lost him/her (although the miscarriage took place at eight weeks) and your poem is so beautiful and really does sum up the feelings and emotions that occur.

    Laura x

  5. 14th October 2016 / 9:29 pm

    Such a beautiful but heartbreaking poem. And it captures the tragedy of miscarriage far too well. I do wish you hadn’t gone through this heartbreak. I hate thinking of other women going through what I’ve been through. But thank you for sharing and helping other women feel less alone. Hugs Lucy xxxx

  6. 14th October 2016 / 9:43 pm

    Oh Hannah… I’m so sorry. Miscarriage is so painful, and it’s never just a bunch of cells. A little life that means so much to all it impacts, even in five all too short weeks. So many if us have been there and it’s so hard. Well done for being brave enough to put it out there… So hard.xx

  7. 17th October 2016 / 5:05 pm

    I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve gone through something so sad 🙁 Sharing your story was a brave decision and I’m sure it will help a lot of people to feel like they’re not alone in their loss xxx

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