I lost my baby recently. At 8.5 weeks after seeing a heart beat. I haven’t been able to talk about it really. My throat cracks and splinters when I begin to form a thought or word or phrase. I took such great care when pregnant that I think I overheated.
My husband grieves with friends and booze and long, arduous bike rides.
I grieve like a stone. Relentless, petrifying and depersonalized.
It is personal, you know. This loss. It is something I did. I don’t care about the views of others. I wasn’t able to hold my child in my womb for long enough. She gave up half way to heaven and didn’t look back.
Her name is written in the night. Her face is imagined by her mother.
Her fingers not to be held. Skin as soft as honey oil never to be reckoned with or kissed by an inappropriate lad.
Grief is heavy. Not tweed heavy but shackle heavy. The stench of summer makes me retch.
I am lost amongst the dusty rebels.
Lacklustre and heartsick.
July 12, 2013 at 9:21 am
This is a beautiful piece of writing. You capture the pain, dismay and the need to grieve so well and your feelings of loss are hearbreaking to read. But somehow you also express the everyday details surrounding you, the husband and his booze and bike, the inappropriate lad, the stench of summer. Exceptional work. If it is autobiographical, it must have been painful to write
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July 12, 2013 at 11:01 am
Vicky
Thank you so much for your comments. They have really lifted me this morning. The miscarriage piece is autobiographical. I lost the baby only 5 weeks ago. I found it very cathartic but was suprised afterwards at the ‘blurt’ aspect of it. I have just finished my first novel and am about to send it to a professional editor before sending it on to agents. Thank you again. So grateful 🙂 x PS I’m also a cat person. Have one of the neighbours cats weaving around my ankles as I type 🙂
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August 9, 2013 at 9:55 am
I too found this very moving. It’s hard to write well about personal stuff when it’s so raw but I think this works, perhaps because you’ve kept it short and it reads like a prose poem.
Hope things are starting to feel better.
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August 9, 2013 at 9:56 am
Thank you. Yes, by degrees, getting better.
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August 9, 2013 at 1:59 pm
Better times will come. Knowing that is true is not solace. Knowing there are people who care for you, and are sad for you too, might be.
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May 29, 2014 at 8:13 am
Moving, eloquent and personal. So brave of you to voice your pain. The sun win shine again and the memory of this loss will be locked away, close to your heart.
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January 13, 2015 at 11:04 am
absolutely heartbreaking.
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July 1, 2015 at 5:54 pm
I thought I would update this piece with some very welcome news. Georgiana Roslyn Diana Stirling came into this world on the 8th February 2015 and thrives while making us very happy 🙂
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