There's always free cheddar in a mousetrap
Four years ago I had a miscarriage. Actually, I didn’t miscarry, per se. The baby died at 12 weeks but I didn’t know it until four weeks later, and only then because the ultrasound discovered it to be true. My uterus had continued to grow, inexplicably. All the symptoms were still there. But baby? Dead. All that time. She just didn’t want to let go ( Read more... )
If it is much too personal I completely understand..but I would very much like to see said poem...you could email if you didnt want to post. I don't know if it is morbid curiousity, my mother miscarried her first child as well (and had not an ounce of a problem with her other two) and I have often tried to understand what that would feel like. I don't know, you certainly don't have to.
I did have to go back to your second journal..and I am ENFP. =)
and I feel honored to be apart of the sacred three..I wholeheartedly agree to your conditions...I would love to read about the process of having a child so feel free to write as much or as little as you like. Just don't start using baby talk..deal?
And on the "if something goes wrong" i am going to be the group optimist until something comes to change that.
congratulations again...that really is wonderful
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Here is said poem. Probably too personal to post, yeah, but you're talking to someone who has an online journal. So...
Tess (08/99-12/99)
While you were here
old wounds were patched
and light was found
in rootless dark.
Our cord reached out
beyond this bond to gather
tangled knots of sorrow -
unraveled them
with happy circumstance
and tied a bow.
But you withdrew,
your tiny veins without a pulse,
and left me blank --
replaced the bow with
brand new knots to smooth,
fresh wounds to mend,
and darkness,
thick, unsteady.
How much longer
would you have clung,
curled and lifeless,
pale shadow
of my certain expectation?
And if I begged,
undid all knots,
would you return?
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