(Miss) carry.
I carried you..I miscarried you. And I miss carrying you. Safely in my womb.
But surely my body fought, and you too.. Little one.. Because I saw you. And each time, three, I saw your steadfast heart beat and your legs kick, arms wave.. Your little mouth move. I heard the horse run in your heart beat, and each time my breath was paused in silent reverence for you.. My surprise baby. The one that shocked me as the test came up so positive before I ever dreamt of you.
….
The labour song
The long howl that is the key to unlocking the gateway to the underworld
Bringing birth and death in the same breath.
My low hum howl that escaped from the depths of my body as I began working bringing my first son into the world, living.. Was also the very song that became, to my surprise, as I birthed my third baby, dead.
The similarities do not escape me
The howl and moan of my body opening wide, the path to The Source
Where rich life blood pulsates, blossoms, grows, sheds, flows.
I stood, and out it gushed,
Rushing to the floor in a river
the most unglorious puddle at my feet
All stark red against the innocent paediatric floor mural of A&E
It happened so fast, so unexpected. I had just sent Steven home to get some sleep with the kids, and was to be admitted to observe the hideous migraine.
So I was alone when the contractions suddenly started, and pressed the emergency button when the blood started flowing
and then the room filled up with lots of people doing lots of things to my body at the same time. I wasn’t alone, but I was alone.
I knew it was a lot of blood
And as I signed the consent and watched lights above me as I was wheeled into theatre, I wondered if the blood would stop, if my womb would be kept.
It did. It was.
I woke holding the hand of the smiling nurse, who had a beautiful way about her
And after a long day, I learned that the baby I carried inside me was my son…
And how real that all made the ordeal that i just simply wanted over. Desperate in my state of deliria and pain.
My baby… My son.. He was there one minute, just a week ago I watched his heart beat and little limbs dance on screen.
… .
It’s Tuesday, the sun is now rising on the day that I will meet my dead baby. His body, I suspect will be barely a few inches big.. Big.. Big enough to have had a short little life beneath my heart, tucked cradled in my womb. For his big sister to lament over how baby would come out, and make a cherished Christmas decoration of, one that he’ll never grow up to see and know how loved he was in this tiny state of dreaming and future planning.
That Christmas decoration… The family portraits drawn in 4 year old hand of ‘mama with a baby in her belly’ Oh how grateful I am to have these precious keepsakes. To have shared this bounty with my babies, in joy and sorrow.
The day I started to miscarry, Claire drew me a picture as I lay trembling in bed with chills, unaware of what would happen later that night, this time it wasn’t a baby in my belly, it was a flower she drew instead.
She kissed my forehead, rubbed my back, told me to drink water and sleep mama, that I’ll feel better. “There there”, she said, “I’m right here. You okay mama.”
…
The snowdrops will be blooming, daffodils next. Two years ago I collected them, pregnant with my March baby boy. My spring lamb.
Now those same flowers I dried for him and blended with his placenta hold different meaning. This turn of earth, waking up to the light again
I’ll go collect those same flowers, dry them, grind them… And they will be for this baby who would have been my summer sun, my summer son.
….
It’s now Wednesday, I believe.. though time is all a blur and I can’t wrap my mind around it all.
We brought our baby home, I kept the birth candle vigil lit all night as I slept fitfully for four hours before waking
Taking note that there are three babies in this house, two sleeping soundly on either side of my body.
I waited for the sun to rise, crept from bed, lit more candles, and then I held him, examining every little bit of his tiny perfection
cradled in my hand… impossible, my baby..
and over and over again I’m repeating
I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby.. my baby. my baby you’ll be.
The day is dreary with wicked wind and rain
the florists weren’t open, I’ll try again tomorrow..
Claire wanted to see him, she talked about how cute his little body is. How tiny his hands are, where is his bum, what about his feet?
She helped me to make hand prints and held her breath, so still, as we set to carefully preserve the sweetest little prints.
Jack came in, crooning ‘aww baby’ while rocking his arms back and forth as if cradling a baby.
Steven dug a hole at the base of Jack’s apple tree, the tree that I grew from seedling as I carried him in my womb.
near it, the pots of the horse chestnut seeds I planted in this pregnancy, that will hopefully sprout this summer
and here he will rest, in the garden where we run and play in the summer
at the house that Jack was born in
at the root of the tree of his big brother
with the gentlest blessing of his big sister
He is our Leo Moon
Born under the full moon of January 5th
Due mid month of July 2015
I carried you..I miscarried you. And I miss carrying you. Safely in my womb.
But surely my body fought, and you too.. Little one.. Because I saw you. And each time, three, I saw your steadfast heart beat and your legs kick, arms wave.. Your little mouth move. I heard the horse run in your heart beat, and each time my breath was paused in silent reverence for you.. My surprise baby. The one that shocked me as the test came up so positive before I ever dreamt of you.
….
The labour song
The long howl that is the key to unlocking the gateway to the underworld
Bringing birth and death in the same breath.
My low hum howl that escaped from the depths of my body as I began working bringing my first son into the world, living.. Was also the very song that became, to my surprise, as I birthed my third baby, dead.
The similarities do not escape me
The howl and moan of my body opening wide, the path to The Source
Where rich life blood pulsates, blossoms, grows, sheds, flows.
I stood, and out it gushed,
Rushing to the floor in a river
the most unglorious puddle at my feet
All stark red against the innocent paediatric floor mural of A&E
It happened so fast, so unexpected. I had just sent Steven home to get some sleep with the kids, and was to be admitted to observe the hideous migraine.
So I was alone when the contractions suddenly started, and pressed the emergency button when the blood started flowing
and then the room filled up with lots of people doing lots of things to my body at the same time. I wasn’t alone, but I was alone.
I knew it was a lot of blood
And as I signed the consent and watched lights above me as I was wheeled into theatre, I wondered if the blood would stop, if my womb would be kept.
It did. It was.
I woke holding the hand of the smiling nurse, who had a beautiful way about her
And after a long day, I learned that the baby I carried inside me was my son…
And how real that all made the ordeal that i just simply wanted over. Desperate in my state of deliria and pain.
My baby… My son.. He was there one minute, just a week ago I watched his heart beat and little limbs dance on screen.
… .
It’s Tuesday, the sun is now rising on the day that I will meet my dead baby. His body, I suspect will be barely a few inches big.. Big.. Big enough to have had a short little life beneath my heart, tucked cradled in my womb. For his big sister to lament over how baby would come out, and make a cherished Christmas decoration of, one that he’ll never grow up to see and know how loved he was in this tiny state of dreaming and future planning.
That Christmas decoration… The family portraits drawn in 4 year old hand of ‘mama with a baby in her belly’ Oh how grateful I am to have these precious keepsakes. To have shared this bounty with my babies, in joy and sorrow.
The day I started to miscarry, Claire drew me a picture as I lay trembling in bed with chills, unaware of what would happen later that night, this time it wasn’t a baby in my belly, it was a flower she drew instead.
She kissed my forehead, rubbed my back, told me to drink water and sleep mama, that I’ll feel better. “There there”, she said, “I’m right here. You okay mama.”
…
The snowdrops will be blooming, daffodils next. Two years ago I collected them, pregnant with my March baby boy. My spring lamb.
Now those same flowers I dried for him and blended with his placenta hold different meaning. This turn of earth, waking up to the light again
I’ll go collect those same flowers, dry them, grind them… And they will be for this baby who would have been my summer sun, my summer son.
….
It’s now Wednesday, I believe.. though time is all a blur and I can’t wrap my mind around it all.
We brought our baby home, I kept the birth candle vigil lit all night as I slept fitfully for four hours before waking
Taking note that there are three babies in this house, two sleeping soundly on either side of my body.
I waited for the sun to rise, crept from bed, lit more candles, and then I held him, examining every little bit of his tiny perfection
cradled in my hand… impossible, my baby..
and over and over again I’m repeating
I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby.. my baby. my baby you’ll be.
The day is dreary with wicked wind and rain
the florists weren’t open, I’ll try again tomorrow..
Claire wanted to see him, she talked about how cute his little body is. How tiny his hands are, where is his bum, what about his feet?
She helped me to make hand prints and held her breath, so still, as we set to carefully preserve the sweetest little prints.
Jack came in, crooning ‘aww baby’ while rocking his arms back and forth as if cradling a baby.
Steven dug a hole at the base of Jack’s apple tree, the tree that I grew from seedling as I carried him in my womb.
near it, the pots of the horse chestnut seeds I planted in this pregnancy, that will hopefully sprout this summer
and here he will rest, in the garden where we run and play in the summer
at the house that Jack was born in
at the root of the tree of his big brother
with the gentlest blessing of his big sister
He is our Leo Moon
Born under the full moon of January 5th
Due mid month of July 2015