Miscarriage Monologues
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What's in a name?

2/25/2015

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His name came to me while I went out for a walk for fresh air.
I was in the dark of the parking lot, and the brilliant moon was shining down on me, my only witness.
and there, whispered in the same parking lot I walked and walked while waiting to go into labour with my first born, his name found me. 
I went to the chapel in the hospital, desperate for a candle to light. annoyed to find that the 'candles' not only were electronic, but you also had to pay for it. what bullshit. no change in my pockets, that's fine.. his name would be better whispered under the open air instead of this dusty chapel.

It felt so intensely private, I didn't want to share with anyone. I kept it close to my heart, I didn't tell my husband until sometime later the next day.
It's simply symbolic. had he been born a Leo in July, at home, right into my hands, right to my breast... his name would have never been Leo. ever.  but for this tiny whisper of a son, to be forever remembered and named by the season and the tides.
it's not his name, it's what *he was*
I wanted to keep the name to myself, and for a few days, I did
but I can't ever keep anything to myself.....

in ways I regret that, kept to myself his name is powerful, sacred, holy. sweet.
in some ways it feels that sharing his name it's watered down... i can't explain it. his name only has meaning to my immediate, intimate family. for anyone else, it's just a name
there is no explaining it
some things demand to stay secret
I wonder how my feelings on that will change as the years pass

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Moon Mysteries 

2/23/2015

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I have bled and birthed by the first and last quarter moons since I began my mothering journey, until 7 weeks ago, when life and death was ushered from my womb in a gush of almighty blood on the hospital floor.
The full moon he was born under, and named.

Six weeks since I buried him in the garden, I spent the week sobbing, in a sudden darkness and depression that wrapped it's way around me, strangling me, pulling me under. So confused as to why I was sinking deeper and deeper
...until the new moon
my first period to return on the very anniversary of digging a resting place beneath the apple tree.

I feel so full of a higher energy, mystical power, rhythm of the earth in how my cycle has found it's way into this pattern. Something in me has shifted, and it's huge, and I'm listening.

and so today, when I would have been 20 weeks pregnant... and I am no longer living in the 'would have beens'
because they aren't, I return my blood to the earth. and I feel the rhythm under my feet of life reawakening, from my bones and my flesh, from the roots under the soil. The snow that fell this morning and the blossoms that opened on the tree. I'm feeling it. I'm listening to it. giving thanks for it.

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The weight of it all 

2/8/2015

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9 pounds of grief
I carry it with me
Spread across my hips and tits, my thighs and stomach.
The extra flesh of sadness, of empty womb, of body shock.
Expanding and shape shifting
Learning to navigate this place again, as gently as I can
But honestly.. I just don't want to do this work. It's not like exercise and eating well, its the full relationship of working through this crap and getting to a place of fulfilment, acceptance, forgiveness, love. yadda yadda. I already fucking put in that time. I already did it. Blaaah but I know it's an on going thing, a constant. A conversation. That takes practice and time.

I really resent this 9 fucking pounds
when in reality, I know that it doesn't matter, it really doesn't
reality bites.
bites of ice cream and sips of wine.
bites of bitterness and spoonfuls of sorrow
sure, there's the days and dishfuls of joy
the cup runneth over with gratitude and pure love that has been poured all over, surrounded. held. cocooned.

but still. there's 9 fucking pounds of grief held tight to my frame.
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    Artist and mother of two, writing and sharing about my miscarriage as cathartic therapy. Helping myself, and possibly helping others navigate this path

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