Lynsey: Still

Still

Still miss you

Still a little sister

Still a daughter

Still our child and always will be

Still in our hearts

Still a wonder

Still Love you always

Full Stop xx

Lynsey: Five years ago...

Five years ago today we were bursting with happiness for you

Five years ago today we had so many hopes and dreams of what you would be and become

Five years ago today we saw you for the first time so small and perfect on the screen

Five years ago today we found out you were 12 weeks and due on 5th July

Now five years on everything is so different we wonder who you would be what you would look like

Now five years on we miss you more than ever but over time it's more gentle, your name like a melody flowing through me

Five years on I hope you know you were worth all the pain to be able to get the chance to hold you and kiss you even though it was goodbye

Now five years on I hope you know you took a piece of me when you went, you completely changed our life's for the better

I hope you know that I won't let death win, it won't shatter me and hold me down forever, I promise to keep standing

I wish so much to be able to hold you and have just a minute with you

Now five years on we carry you and all our hopes and dreams for you in our hearts.

I love you so much to the moon and back

Forever and ever

xxxx

Jessica: Liminality

Jessica Zucker is a clinical psychologist in Los Angeles who specializes in women’s reproductive and maternal mental health. Find her online www.drjessicazucker.com and on Twitter @DrZucker. This poem is republished with kind permission from Jessica and was originally published on the online literary magazine Mothers Always Write.

~~~~~

Are you real, darling?

I study those turquoise pools of curiosity for verification

as they twinkle.

I smell your nascent toes

as you suckle my breasts.

Our breath rhymes as we lay spooned.

When our lips meet, we brighten.

All of this is evidence of you

being real

hearty

here.

Swaddled in health.

Whole.

But how do I know for sure?

Trauma harangued assuredness,

banged it up, bruised it.

Nothing is for certain, it seems.

Loving you so fully

stupefies

reverberations of loss.

Who was the girl who came before,

but isn’t?

If she was,

you wouldn’t be,

confounding.

My Miscarriage

turned me upside down,

though it all looks right-side up

now

from the outside.

Anxiety visits

previously a stranger

unwanted alarm bell

a reminder

not to take life or love for granted.

I yearn for pre-miscarriage me.

Fresh faced, naïve maybe

bucolic burgeoning belly

without reserve

or preoccupation.

Grief grips.

Fifteen months should prove your staying power.

Nevertheless

my mind

wanders

to stormy places.

The trauma of this second trimester loss

lives in me

harnessed me, harasses me

will be here

is me.

Wishing won’t yield change.

I’ll settle on hybridity, even

Re-find. Refined.

Her mommy

is me

this me

inverted

for now, for always.

Abii: My Missing Piece (For Harry)

Time goes on but doesn't alter,

I try my hardest not to falter,

My missing piece you'll always be,

A massive hole inside of me.

Life continues passing by,

I try so hard to stop the cry,

To brush away the falling tears,

To hide away from all my fears.

But the pain will never go,

I've suffered such a mortal blow,

You should have been baby boy,

That filled my life with so much joy.

Instead you left me far too early,

And my world was numb and blurry,

Blinded by the constant pain,

Can't see past unswerving rain.

It broke my heart to lose you so,

Before you had the chance to grow,

So many memories left unmade,

Too many adventures left unplayed.

Until that day we meet once more,

As you hold open heavens door,

My missing piece you'll always be,

Until the day you set me free.

Renira: Always Here

This beautiful poem was written by Renira to show how angel mummies are there for one another and is a testament to the support we all receive from others who know what it is like to walk in the shoes of a bereaved parent.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

How can you describe your pain, your loss,

The ache of your arms and the break in your heart?

The words that do not come, and the thoughts you can not start.

How can you explain the smell of her skin,

The touch of her hair and the beat of her heart?

The words that do not come and the thoughts you can not start.

How can they see the river you cry,

The ripple, the stream, The lake by your heart?

The words that do not come and the thoughts you can not start.

How can they mend the broken shards,

Fill the numb, the empty, the fear in your heart?

The words that do not come and the thoughts you can not start.

You say the words you tell yourself,

The sound, the echo, the scream of your heart;

The words that always come when the thoughts begin to start.

You knew her for that moment in time,

Worlds stand still, the beat of both hearts;

The words that always come when the thoughts begin to start.

You carry her to the Moon and back,

She is the rhythm, the music, the pound of your heart;

The words that always come when the thoughts begin to start.

You need not say these things to me,

I see your eyes, feel the pain of your heart;

Our words that always come and our thoughts that always start.

We will carry them for all of time,

They are locked forever entwined in our hearts;

Our words that always come and our thoughts that always start.

When ever no one hears your pain,

Remember That I listen and I hear it break your heart;

My words will always come when your thoughts begin to start.

Stacey: Last Christmas

Last Christmas

I carried you near my heart

But the very next year you went away.

This year

Theres nothing but tears

We’re missing someone special.

Once bitten and twice shy

I think of another

But you still fill my mind.

Tell me why

I no longer recognise me?

Well,

what has happened this year,

It doesn't surprise me

(Merry Christmas)

I wrapped it up and sent it

For the angels to tell you "I love you,”

I meant it

Now I know what a mother is

I’d give anything to kiss you now

I know you'd heal me again.

Empty arms,

Consumed by my tired mind.

I'm hiding from the truth

And pain of the ice.

My god I thought you were coming home this year.

Me? I guess I have lost all innocence.

A face of pain with a fire of anger in my heart.

I try to keep it under cover but it tears me apart.

Now my heart has mothers love, you'll never be forgotten I promise.

Maybe next year I'll bring home someone

I'll bring home someone special.

Julz: The Secret Society

The Secret Superheroes 

I don’t remember chasing a funny white rabbit, 

Neither did I fall down a magical hole;

Entering a dream that is undoubtedly never ending.

The Muggles versus the Wizards.

Superman and Clark Kent.

Bruce Wayne and Batman.

The Mother versus the Bereaved Mother. 

Only the final one didn’t give me Super Powers,

Our poison isn’t as simple as Kryptonite.

And we certainly can’t hide behind a cape and costume.

Like The Superheroes we have to be careful who we reveal our secrets to.

We’re not deadly.

But somehow we come across as terrifying

Though we don’t get given a wand 

Or even lessons on how to use our “powers” 

But we’re expected to know how to use them.

Our magical powers is living

With child sized hole in our hearts.

Expected to read minds,

To know who we can speak to, 

How far we can take the conversation. 

Is it easier to say 3 or 4?

Who am I trying to save?

Save people “normals” from the entirety of a pain,

But saving them by raising awareness so they never have to 

Endure this journey.

You could say we’re The Avengers 

No two parents' loss is the same

But we all have the power to save

The strength to break the thick wall of silence

Our magical power is

Breathing

xxxxx

Lindsey: Transformed by Grief

©Priya Saihgal

I have evolved.

My grief has transformed me.

Like a caterpillar I have become a butterfly.

I anticipated this transformation.

But transformation into the joys of motherhood,

Not by the death of my child.

Nora’s birthday was her death day,

And my rebirth.

I live my life for my daughter now.

Not in the way I had planned in attending to her every need,

Resulting in sleepless nights and dirty diapers.

But by embracing the beauty of the little things.

The complexity of the snowflake.

The power of the written word.

The fragility of the butterfly wings.

The comfort of a cup of tea and warm blanket.

The kiss of the sunlight against my face.

By embracing the beauty of the little things,

I have broadened the horizon of my understanding of this world

And thus have been transformed.

I realize that my daughter will never be able to experience this world’s splendor

And I have pledged to take it in for her.

To live the life she will not be privileged to.

My eyes see more clearly now

The magnificence of the earth.

It’s as if my eyes are hers

Taking in the world for the first time,

As only a new soul can do.

My grief at times still clouds my vision,

But then something inside reminds me to appreciate this life.

Maybe it’s Nora showing me the world through her baby eyes,

Through her pure soul.

So I will accept my transformation.

I will embrace the new light that shines from within

And burns with a passion to live life to the fullest.

Like the caterpillar who turns into a butterfly,

I will embrace my new form

In order to spread my wings and fly.

~Still Breathing…Lindsey

To read more of Lindsey's story visit - www.stillbornandstillbreathing.com

To see more of Lindsey's friend Priya Saihgal’s photography please visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/30247062@N03/

Joanna: The Robin

I think when something dreadful happens,

You go a little mad.

Your brain shuts off and stops to function-

Better mad than sad.

You see things and you genuinely

Believe them to be true.

Like the Robin in the garden,

Who I felt was really you.

Your little soul had passed away,

Somewhere it had to go.

The Robin's ruby red breast,

So bright against the snow.

Maybe it was the colour red,

So vibrant next to white.

The reminder of the blood

And the previous sleepless night.

Maybe it was the grief,

And the sadness and despair.

My mind looking for anything

Which my heart it might repair.

But maybe just the madness,

And a fight for something real.

A place for your lost soul to live,

Some hope for me to feel.

I watched the Robin fly away

As tears welled in my eyes.

And there I decided your soul went,

To soar up in the skies.

So when I see a Robin now,

I sit and stare a while

I think of you flying high above

And that thought makes me smile.

Joanna wrote this poem following a miscarriage and has kindly allowed us publish it on Loss Through the Looking Glass. Joanna writes about her motherhood journey on her blog My Little Rays of Sunshine. You can read more about her experience of miscarriage on her post 'Our Baby's Angel'.