Background: When I miscarried in 2002, I wrote four poems to express my experience. I wish there had a been a ritual and community for handling it. The poems below are designed to be read by female friends surrounding the person who has miscarried just before she immerses in the mikveh.
Sarah
November 16, 2002
I know why Sarah laughed
She laughed
because she had
given up
So many miscarriages
Decades worth
Bleeding and bleeding
and no life
Disappointment, pain
sadness, aloneness
She was a leader
who hid her pain
because they only wanted
to know of her strength
and joy
Here I am
descendant of Sarah
because in the end
she did birth a child
Here I am
crying
for the unimaginable
intensity of her suffering
and
for mine too
I’m tired and wound up
And I’m looking for some peace
Unpregnant
November 19, 2002
November 19, 2002
I know why Sarah laughed
Sarah laughed because she had given up
Cycle after cycle
Moon after moon
Blood after blood
flowing disappointment
I know why I cried
I cried because
I hadn’t given up
A hatzi kaddish for
half a dream
a quarter hope
bled and gone
Miscarriage
November 21, 2002
I should have spent today in a red tent
with my friends
Someone should have stroked my hair
And someone should have sung to me
And someone should have reminded me
of Sarah and
of Rachel
Someone should have placed
my head on her lap
and someone should have said
I know,
it was me last month,
remember?
And someone should have whispered
you’ll survive
and someone should have promised
it will
get better
And someone should have hollered at
G-d for me
And someone should have forgiven G-d
with me
And someone should have brought my
daughter in to hold
for a moment
And when this is over
someone ought to put
her fingers through my fingers
and lift me up
and lead me
out of this tent
to the waters
the healing waters
seven steps
to renewal.
A Limb
March 17, 2003
A limb
I always say
You feel pain
Not because a life
was taken,
an embryo
isn’t a life.
Rather, said the rabbis,
this loss is akin
to losing a limb.
But I forgot
to tell me.
A piece of me
has been taken
a part of me
is lost
smaller than my smallest toe
insignificant as my nail
tiny
unsustainable
And yet a piece of me
and apart from me
a part of self of body
and certainly of mind and
hope
is gone.
Let’s say it plainly
The plans were much
greater than the
collection of cells.
Both are now gone.
