The Dappled Willow

I wrote the poem below for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day in 2018 about my first experience of pregnancy loss in 2015.

I’ll never forget the moment
I stepped inside my parents’ house
I had just been released from the hospital
Still feeling contractions
Feeling the pregnancy slip away
Our baby was gone
And my siblings, all of them,
had dropped what they were doing
On a Saturday night
To be there for us. For me.
They didn’t say anything when I came in.
What could they possibly say?
They hugged me.
All at once.
Held me.
And as I sobbed they cried with me.
They had homemade pizza ready
and mattresses on the floor in front of the TV
We watched our favourite movies together
all night long
And they didn’t mind my whimpers interrupting intermittently.

Monday morning
My best friend showed up
Food and movies in tow.
I don’t remember our conversation
Again, what could she say?
But she was there.
And I’ll never forget feeling loved
In my despair
As the hot soup she made,
and made me eat,
traveled to my empty stomach.

Since it is #PregnancyandInfantLossAwareness Day, I just want to share these moments, out of appreciation for my loved ones, and as an example to others that although it may be difficult to see someone you care about mourn the loss of their child, it’s okay to not have any words of comfort. “Maybe this” or “at least that” can be hurtful. This isn’t a break up we’re talking about; this is a baby that had already changed the mother’s body, diet, priorities and perspective, hopes and dreams. And now, after already loving this person, without knowing them yet, she somehow needs to go back to life as she knew it before.

This is heavy, I know. All this to say, showing up, listening, and being a shoulder to cry on speaks volumes. There’s no need to say a word.

If you have, or someone you know has, experienced a pregnancy loss check out The Love & Loss Project for great healing resources.