Writing Grief

A collection of 75 posts

Baby Three

Blessings Revisited 

My baby, the one who sleeps in the room next to mine, the one who looks so much like her brothers, is a blessing.  When I was about six months pregnant, someone said to me that she would be a blessing.  At that moment, still unable to believe that she

Baby Three

Wonder and Sorrow

That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive…. O my love, where are they, where are they going…. I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder. -Czeslaw Milosz Today.  The day the course of our lives changed.  Two years ago today was the day that we learned

Baby Three

Inescapable Reality

“Your death really feels like a prison sentence…Upon the slamming of those doors for the first time, one fights and struggles and wrestles trying to get them back open – trying to get back to freedom and the world you knew. Then, once resigned, you decorate. You hang up a

Baby Three

Missing the Echo

When Autumn was born, suddenly there were echoes of her sisters surrounding me. Close parallels, repetitions, deja vus of the last two times I gave birth, with an intensely different outcome.  Or is Autumn the echo of those experiences? My body bleeds, shedding the remains of my uterus.  It was

anxiety

Beautiful and Terrible

Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to

stuff people say

Dread the Conversation

I dread the conversational “How many children do you have?” asked so eagerly, so innocently.  Nor did I realize how often people feel compelled to ask it. Woven into the fabric of small talk, along with the weather and where are you from and what do you do?  When I

Writing Grief

Nonet

waiting for a change a step sideways growth in unwelcome circumstance nausea swelling dizzy aching tired frightened all comes back to chance circle, hope, fire hidden truth look no more

Writing Grief

Passing Through Me

When Death came He was quiet and unassuming A silent slip from one moment into the subsequent. No vigil, no disaster, no fanfare But a small flicker. It was a mysterious and unknown intrusion When Death passed through me Not next to me Not beside me Not in front of

SHARE

Eight

Raising kids is stamped with firsts. First steps, first words, first day of school, first time driving a car, first date.  There were many other firsts in the year following baby loss.  First Christmas without my babies.  First time a close friend had a baby.  First time I attended a

Baby Three

The Myth

Once there was a woman and a man, who had been together for a long time. They entered adulthood together and married, bought a house, had successful careers, and had two adorable young boys. The couple decided that they wanted to have a third child, and the woman became pregnant

Writing Grief

Community

Sharing what I have written has made me brave.

Writing Grief

Lovely

Take care, my lovely Though the breaths may be hasty And the lines may be shallow The moon is still crisp. Shining upon your quivering fingers Hold steady Inhale Awake from your nightmares Rise from the night My sweet one. I am with you With waves of calm With the

marriage

Uprooted

I have written thousands of words about how my losses have affected me. About the work I have done to try to heal myself, as much as possible. I’ve written about self-loathing, therapy, yoga, friends, and coping – or lack thereof. I have written very little about the impacts on

Writing Grief

What I Feel

what i feel ligaments softening, stretching skin rough and distended welcomed nausea movements and then… nothing. There was a distinct moment when I was no longer pregnant. When I was told that my baby had no heartbeat. I was physically still pregnant, but I felt nothing. I was walking around

Writing Grief

Chaos

The air had a distinct look of snow this morning. Silent, still, and gray. It is easy for a confluence of emotions to devolve into chaos.  That might be the most accurate categorization for the collection that I carry around: sorrow, pain, anger, fear, out of control.  I would be

bad behavior

Anger

I cannot write into anger today, because that’s not the place that I’m in.  At least not today. My most profound anger came after losing Iris.  After losing Nelle, I was mostly just sad.  Devastated.  Shocked.  And quickly had to pick up the pieces when I became pregnant

mementos

Words are Insufficient

I heard the words over and over: “I have no words” or “I don’t know what to say.”  Yeah, me neither.  Losing one baby renders a lot of consolations along those lines.  Losing two babies?  Even more.  If people did not know what to say the first time, they

Writing Grief

Metaphor

I am not some lesson to be learned. Some hideous example of “what to do, what not to do.” My writing is not a compendium on grief. Forwards, backwards, inside out, incomplete. I leave holes, gaps, questions unanswered. I am not a litany of cliches. Each trigger cuts me sideways.

Writing Grief

Dreams: Before and After

I used to love sleep.  When I first lived on my own, in college, I was never the type to stay up late, studying.  I would prefer an early bedtime with a full night’s rest.  I come from a long line of excellent nappers, so even when my kids

Writing Grief

Withdrawn

I have been drawing into myself lately. A few people have noticed and even commented on my quiet, to which I say vaguely “it’s personal.” This is not the first time. I can pinpoint notches in the past 14 months when I preferred only myself. I give any energy

Writing Grief

Thanksgiving Songs

What love song would I send myself? The timing is uncanny, because I have been working on a playlist of music as a background to Thanksgiving. I was searching through my thousands of digital files for the perfect ambiance to a day of gratitude. A love song to myself seemed

Writing Grief

My Face, Now

Me + Puppy She covers my face with her exuberance, her energy. Easy to forget I am there. The distraction of puppy versus baby. No eyes on my strained face. Absence easily conversed, forgotten. Thanksgiving morning with triggers abound I took her for a languid walk. Stark, crisp leaves, crunching, deadened.

Writing Grief

Solace

Recently someone said to me: “I would do anything to make your life easier and as much as I want to do it, there is still so much pain and suffering.  If I could have one wish granted, it would be that (you) no longer have to suffer and endure

Writing Grief

Shield

I shield no one. I wrote about every excruciating detail of giving birth to both Nelle and Iris.  I knew that I would likely cringe and look away from my own words someday, but it was important to me to make people aware of how devastating it is to have

Writing Grief

Redemption

I fumbled around with the idea of redemption yesterday, wrote nothing.  Bits were churning in my head as I lay awake at night. The Shawshank Redemption immediately came to mind.  The scene where Andy Dufresne literally crawls out of the shit hole and holds his arms up to the thunder