And Daddy was away And didn't know to come right away And my friend gave me lilies Because what was there to say?
For a week I carried you Still, heavy, silent A breathing tomb.
I birthed you on Good Friday morning Held you in the hollow of my hand Tiny, formed, delicate, alabaster -
David.
My baby Who lived in my hope But died in my body Who lived in my heart But never in my arms
They told us we could bury you So we did In our own soil Paper shroud, shoebox coffin Mommy's letter in a bottle.
I planted a lilac to remember you by.
Time passed We moved away I had to leave you and the letter and the lilac behind.
Still I am moving away Leaving you and the letter and the lilac behind.
During a routine 16 week scan during my third pregnancy I was told the baby had no heartbeat. After considering my options I chose to let Nature take her course and miscarry naturally. Because the pregnancy was still relatively un-advanced we also had a decision as what to do with the little body after I miscarried. Almost 10 years later, on Mothers Day, I found myself reliving that time again - and realising again how little space I'd had to grieve this particular loss. I think we don't talk enough about miscarriage and it's impact on so many women.