Young Writers Society

Half-naked and covered in blood,
I cried out for you and you came
And stared at me with wide eyes.

Back then, I asked you,
"What should we do?"
Though perhaps I should have asked,
"How are we supposed to live now?"
Because I felt like the sole survivor
Drowning in a sea of blood,
As I hemorrhaged out, praying
For a miracle that I knew would never come,
Clinging desperately for that hope of life
When there was only death.

And when you stammered, "I don't know"
It was as if the world shattered and
There was only us
And we were all alone.

If everything was all right, by nine weeks,
The baby would be the size of an olive
With a heart, brain, kidneys, liver and lungs.
They would have legs and arms and fingers and toes
That could be measured in microns
If everything was all right.

And if you saw them on an ultrasound, they would
Kick with their legs and tumble about
Doing somersaults in the womb
as if they were astronauts in space.
If everything was all right.

And if you were to listen to them,
You could hear their heartbeat pulse
And it sounds like a herd of galloping horses
Thundering along a desert plane.

If everything was all right.

If everything was all right, the baby would be alive
And you would be mildly nauseous and very tired
And thinking vaguely of the perfect name.

If everything was all right.

And nobody can prepare you for the pain
When everything goes wrong
I've birthed five live babies and yet
When I felt the pain strike
It felt like someone cleaved me with an ax
At the small of my back

While I bled and nothing can prepare you
For the horror of watching the
Blood clots come out in clumps
While you lay there in agony wondering
If the raw flesh that you see is yours
Or whether hidden among the
Wreckage of the womb
There is a olive-sized human
With tiny fingers and toes
And a heart no longer beating.

It's better not to say anything
Because you won't know how they'll respond.

Some of them don't say much. They mumble,
"I'm sorry for your loss" and then you shrug
and there's an awkward moment of silence
followed by a quick change of subject.

Those are the good conversations.

But some people are monsters.
While you're still bleeding out
They'll say the first platitudes that
pop into their brain:

"Everything happens for a reason."

"Well, at least you already have children."

"It wasn't the right time."

And what do you say to that?

Death happens. We all will die.
To assume anything else is unreasonable,
and yet... I am still bleeding out and will
continue to bleed out for weeks more.
I feel like an empty tomb whose ghost
has wandered away with a trail of blood
and will never come back.
And I am haunted by the memory of
the presence. My clothes don't fit well and
I still get nauseous and yet
I am empty all the same. It has happened
and death happens, but it is a cruel separation
that makes us scream to God and curse Him
for His reason of allowing death to happen
while longing all the same for Him to let us join
the ones that have gone beyond us.
Everything happens for a reason is a cruel mockery
to the ones who are left behind
left bleeding out and wondering why they still live
while the innocent are taken away
and hidden behind the veil.

And how dare you speak of my children in that cruel way?
Don't you know each of them is
an individual who is worthy to be loved?
Do you think that I look at them and see
only a quantity of children? Do you think I only
view them as a quota to be reached,
as a number to be realized?
My family is not a corporate office where my children are
churned out and numbered according to age
and then abandoned when they reach maturation.
They are people who think and feel and dream.
When I hold them, I love them.
When they bleed, I comfort them.
Before they were even born, I wondered
who they were and who they would become.
Do you think that my heart is so closed that
I would not love this child the same way
If I were only given a chance?

And the timing isn't right? Pray tell,
when is the right time
to start bleeding out a child?
Or do you think that I scheduled this to happen
on the day after my wedding anniversary?
One day, my husband and I were walking on the waterfront
dreaming of our future and the next day
our lives were shattered
and we had to pick up all the pieces.
It was a beautiful summer day,
and yet all I remember is the darkness
and him holding me through the darkness,
reminding me of his love
over and over again.

No, it is easier to say nothing while in the darkness
and let it wash over you in your grief.
For night is the time of nightmares
and it is easier to run away from the monsters
than it is to bear their cruel words
that shatter your very soul.