My angel, I’m so sorry. This letter is a week late, and you’re 19 months and 1 week old already. It’s been so busy here that I’ve just not had the time to write to you.
We’ve found somewhere to live, and although it’s been so lovely staying with Aunty Lindi and Uncle Ian, I’m looking forward to our new home in a whole new part of England. It’s not always nice starting â€˜over’ on some levels, but I am excited about exploring a new part of the world. I’m just looking forward to being â€˜settled’ for a little while again.
I’ve wanted to write this post for such a long time, but have never felt ‘qualified’ to do so. What do I know about baby loss? Child loss? Do I even have a right to speak about it?Â But that fear is part of what makes me want to write about it. I was asked this week to write a poem for a mother who lost her baby. It sparked so many thoughts for me. Here’s the culmination of those thoughts:
Losing a child. I cannot even begin to imagine what that must feel like. For the first twenty weeks of my pregnancy, I bled. At three weeks the doctor told me my body was preparing to miscarry and I just had to let it happen and for 17 weeks I cried when I went to the loo. I begged my baby to cling to life. She did.