I wrote this poem with the ache of empty arms after losing a wanted and tried-for baby. The pain of miscarriage is a very personal and deep feeling of loss. From the moment you find out your pregnant, you begin to love the child. You begin to daydream about their future, what they will look like, what their personality will be like… as if they were already here. Really, they are here. There’s just multiple layers of skin between them and the world. That’s what makes any loss, at any time so hard.
My womb no longer felt fruitful and nurturing. It felt like a grave site and I was the walking tombstone. I cried everyday, for weeks, for months…I cry now as I write this 6 year later.