Poetry of #misCOURAGE

Two poems written by a mother about early miscarriage.

Heartbreaking stories. Devastating stories. The miscarriage story needs to change. That's why we've created Tommy's book of #misCOURAGE. Read this story now and help spread the word that miscarriage can no longer be ignored. Help us change the story to save babies' lives.

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June 2016

I found out I was pregnant four days ago, we were absolutely thrilled. I started spotting yesterday at just over 5 weeks pregnant and fearing the worst, took a pregnancy test which said 'not pregnant'. Today the bleeding started. I spoke to a midwife on the phone who confirmed that this is an early miscarriage, sometimes called a chemical pregnancy. To help me cope with the pain of my loss, and the reactions of those closest to me, I wrote this poem.

This Is What It Means to be a Woman

This is what it means to be a woman:
Smiling politely and drinking cups of tea
As the clump of cells that you would have loved
Leaks from your body, secretly

This is what it means to be a woman:
Despite this being a joint enterprise
You silence the thoughts that come to your lips;
He doesn’t like to see sadness in your eyes

This is what it means to be a woman:
Screaming in your head, ‘surely that’s up to me?’
As your sympathetic mother, on hearing of your loss
Counsels you to deal with it privately

This is what it means to be a woman:
Her harried voice softening over the phone
As the midwife you now might never meet
Suggests that perhaps today, you shouldn’t be alone

This is what it means to be a woman:
Compartmentalising; talking about the EU
Even though you’ve just seen the smudge of red
That warns that your fears are about to come true

This is what it means to be a woman:
The heart skipping joy of a line next to a line
Bottling that joy in a box deep inside you
For fear of the shame if this isn’t your time.

 

July 2016

My Never

He never had eyes, a tongue or a face 
He never had legs for the sports day race
He never had hands to sketch my form 
He never had arms to keep me warm

He never had hopes or dreams or fears 
Never had hurt or rage or tears 
He never got beyond the start
Not even four chambers in his heart 

Would he have had his sister's smile 
He was here for such a short while
The womb for just days, in mind forever 
My clump of cells, my child, my never 

 

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Disclaimer

Please note that the opinions expressed by users in Tommy’s Book of #misCOURAGE are solely those of the user, who is unlikely to have had medical training. These opinions do not represent the opinions of Tommy’s and are not advice from Tommy's. Reading individual, real-life experiences can be a helpful resource, but it is never a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment from a qualified health care provider. We strongly advise readers not to take drugs that are not prescribed by your qualified healthcare provider. If you think you may have a medical emergency, call your doctor, midwife or hospital immediately. Read full disclaimer

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