Skip to main content

THE MEMORY OF YOU by Kat Myrman

(In the United States, the month of October has been designated as "Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month" since 1988. Below, one of our poets shares her own experience)

It’s a loss no one talks about…

One where grieving is considered an indulgence. Well-meaning souls will try to console you by reminding you how blessed you are to have other children, or if you don’t, they’ll assuredly mention that it was all part of some divine plan, or for the best…nature’s way of protecting you from a less than perfect child…of course none of these things are of any comfort when a mother miscarries.

I lost my child some 33 years ago in October. It wasn’t until this most recent nudge that I remembered that it was in October. We try to get on with life…to count our blessings, but we never forget. The void of tonight’s new moon simply reminds me that I’m not meant to forget. And that it’s okay to remember and to grieve.
Photography by the author, Kat Myrman

The Memory of You
by Kat Myrman

i only saw you for a moment…
pink perfection, but you had
already gone. how can you
miss someone you’ve never
met? sometimes i wonder
who you might have become,
who i might be today had
my body not failed you.
there was no funeral,
no heartfelt epitaphs…
no records or witnesses
that you ever were, except
for me, who once carried
you deep inside, the child
i never held but can’t
forget, especially when
the memory of you
interrupts my busyness
and touches my heart.

Kat Myrman: When she’s not working in a cubicle from 9 to 5, Kat can be found taking photographs and photo editing, writing poetry and prose, or sketching and painting. With roots in traditional Christianity, these days Kat finds herself transitioning more into a feminine, earth-based Spirituality with a focus on living in the moment. Her greatest joy is found in encouraging and empowering others. Kat lives in a century-old home in a historic neighborhood in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia with her wife, Traci and their menagerie of critters: two very big dogs, three rescued kitties, a tortoise and a Sun Conure. Her four grown daughters have enriched Kat’s life with five (and counting) amazing grandchildren and several grand-pups. You can connect with Kat at her blog “like mercury colliding”, on Facebook, or on her pet kid’s Facebook Page, Henry’s Friends (where Kat is the translator).

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

Comments

  1. Thank you so much for sharing your grief with us, dear Kat, and thus inspiring other mothers to release theirs as well. You are right: this is a kind of loss that rarely gets talked about, so many of us go through it alone. I know I do. Had my daughter, Kalindi, lived, she would have turned fifteen this year. I still think about her almost every day. Your poem reminds me that this grief is natural, and that feeling it, and sharing it, is a very good way to process it, and honor my child's loss. Thank you!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

MY HEART SEEPS by Edith Lazenby

Courage is not only facing fear, but also looking past fear, to see what lies it tells and truths it saves...
Sometimes I sit at a computer in trepidation. The house trembles and I wonder what I will find. 
Truth is not a fact or a feeling. It may rest on love’s heart and walk with integrity. It may stand beyond humanity in ways we can only imagine. Truth can be solid as earth and fickle as wind. But a wind can know stillness and the earth can crack wide open.
Tonight I found a stillness in a crack and managed to balance there...


My Heart Seeps
by Edith Lazenby
I cannot hold on And I cannot let go. I walk a path I don’t know. I feel moonlight But cannot see Its orb midst The cloudy cold. My hands tremble. My eyes tear. My toes wriggle To grasp earth. I want to stand Tall in the light Yet fear shadows all. Inside I crumble Under the weight I cannot shoulder.

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…

DEPRESSION by Veronica Carpenter

Depression
Here goes my vulnerability A heart on a sleeve The typical person who looks at me May not see the same me that I live with daily The mind in the air, swirling with possibility When the darkness rallies/gathers/swirls When I am left to solitude This paper-thin garb unzips Here comes depression          
No I don’t want to advertise So flash a smile Those who are close get to see Through the veil, it’s really not that thick Circumstances in life like to stab at the rib Stumble, fall behind the door Shut out the world Feelings well and weigh down Strength hidden deep in the core So deep that sometimes it’s forgotten Here comes the darkness My old friend Sweeping through my every move  Doubts, fears, un-named masked men Oozing like honey, sticking to everything
Patience is required to get on this ride There is a cycle but its pattern is unknown Slowly my gift will unwrap itself Stay on the path Coming back to that which never truly left me Just laid sleeping out of exhaustion from the fight Dormant in winter…