Unintentional Poet

Those among you kind enough to have stuck with reading my blog over the years, will know that I like to write something, every year, to commemorate the birthday of Grace, our tiny girl, who didn't make it into this world, as she should have done. You can read previous years' posts here , here , here  and here if you want to! This year, I've experimented with a different form of writing, not with the aim of eliciting sympathy from everyone who reads, but more to show the long term impact of this sort of loss. I think those of us who have lost babies can sometimes minimise our own pain, playing it down, because we never really 'met' our babies, or knew them. But the trauma is real and the pain long-lasting. Everything I've written is real and true, although I've framed it in the form of a story. I hope it provides a bit of an insight into the long journey to healing that baby loss involves.   Nine years on, it's different again. I'm grateful...

Last year, she was still here – But the end had begun. Through March and April, We were numb with disbelief, Denial, fear – But clinging, always, to hope. Through May and June, We rode the ups and downs – Hospital trips, Macmillan visits, Temperature spikes – Good days and bad. Talk of a memory box Was too much to bear, For she did not want To imagine herself As a memory. We didn’t either. July and August Tricked us into thinking Time was on our side – Barbecues, days out, Impromptu coffees, the Race for Life – Hopes raised, Scan results good. But oh! September – How you sprung from nowhere, Punched us hard in the gut And stole that illusion from us! Oh, the speed, the downward spiral, The force with which You slammed us against the wall, Day after day, As you hurtled us closer To what was becoming Inevitable, Inescapable. And now, you’re here again, Promising to most, Open fires, warm jumpers, ...