Two years ago exactly, I had a miscarriage. Today I happened to be going through some old books and journals, and I found a poem I wrote back in October of 2007, when I lost a baby in my fourth pregnancy, at 14 weeks along. It’s so wild how incredibly cathartic writing is for me. I remember discovering this back in high school, and for a while, I forgot about the trick. Whoever you are out there listening (reading), thanks for bearing a little piece of my burdens.

In part because I’m obviously a sado-masochistic emotional exhibitionist and in part because I’m afraid I’ll lose this little piece of paper again, here it is for the whole wide world to see:

Miscarriage

Cathryn, Amelia, Sophie, or Jane?

Simon or Kai, Noah or Cade?

A sister to tutor?

Another brother to play?

Either will do. We’ll laugh either way.

But as for this time, it seems,

“Just a cluster of underdeveloped dreams…”

the doctors insisted.

I couldn’t believe.

But then today

in a single plop

my hopes go pop

as I feel it drop.

Abort! Eject!

I just can’t look! I can’t inspect.

But my senses tell what fell:

A bloody circle, full of hopes

Just as real, I’ll always feel.

Yet this is still the Day He made

And He’s still good (so near) today.

I already learned He isn’t safe.

So I must trust Him anyway.