I sit in pain, my heart broken in a million razor sharp pieces.
Shards rip though my insides, drawing fresh blood with every quickening of my breath.
With every gasp for air between sobs.
Eventually, the tears stop falling. There seem to be none left. For now.
But the numbness, that is worse.
The numbness leaves me fearful.
Fearful I’ll forget.
Fearful I’ll never feel again.
The shards, for a moment, have stopped cutting through my insides.
But I need to feel them to know I still feel Them. My Girls.
So I let my mind take me…
The “What If’s,”
The “If Only’s”
The “How Can I Be The Mother Of Two Dead Babies?”
Words that ring so loudly in my ears, though they’re never spoken aloud.
And the million razor pieces start drawing fresh blood.
I sit and read about others’ heartache, others’ pain.
The words of other mothers who yearn to fill their empty arms.
My pain, my tears, my sorrow,
Sewn to theirs, connecting me to my grief.
And once again, I feel them.
Would a day without grief be a day without them?
If so, then I hope to grieve forever.
—
This poem is dedicated to all the baby loss moms who feel “stuck” in their grief. To all the moms who feel a responsibility to the tears that have become their connection to their babies. I believe, it doesn’t have to be this way.
{Your Thoughts}