Miscarriage

  • i close my eyes and then

    I close my eyes at night and the blackness that stares back at me from inside my eyelids is deep and dark. I know my eyelids are right there. But if I didn’t… well, I wouldn’t. And then it would just seem like… Endless Dark.

    It’s what I imagine it must be like inside a uterus.

    Disconnected from the day, and staring into the black nothingness, I can’t help but start to feel like I’m floating. You know, as if I’m in some kind of fluid.

    My thoughts drift… I realize that I have no real knowledge of what is sustaining me, only beliefs… feelings.

    I just am.

    There is a sense of someone out there – very close, but in another sense, so far still. Someone who loves me, whom I do not yet really know.  Someone who wanted me; someone who is waiting patiently to meet me.

    My heart is beating but, after some time, I start to feel very tired and weak. I have the sense I am fading.

    I still feel, but it’s so dark, and getting darker.

    Suddenly there is nothing.

    In the morning, I wake again, and I get to open my eyes, see the world around me and time marches on.

    I get to keep going, continue to be.

    I hope that they are somewhere where their eyes have opened unto the most beautiful sights they could ever dream of, and that when I get there to join them, they are bursting with stories of all the things I’ve missed while they were waiting patiently to meet me.