When they can’t find a heartbeat


a poem for women grieving a miscarriage or infant loss

I wrote this poem five years ago, during a time of overwhelming grief. I have never shared it before. I pray these words are a comfort to others who have lost babies they have deeply loved but barely held, or never met. You are not alone.

 

Still

You’re

slipping

 away,

so whisper-soft I barely notice.

 

Until I do.

 

It’s the absences,

suddenly present,

sneaking

up on me—

 

nausea, relenting;

exhaustion, easing;

future, fading—

 

and I know you’re

slipping

away,

gone,

and I am alone

in this body.

 

And yet

I still feel you,

tucked safe inside,

your tiny heart beating

like hummingbird wings,

though I never saw it.

They never could find it.

 

But you know,

and I know,

that you still live

inside me,

and always will,

and it will be our secret

until the day,

together,

we die.


Related posts:

When You Walk Through a Valley

When Being a Grown-up Means You’re Still Growing Up

The One She Needed to Write

When God Says Wait: Navigating Life's Detours and Delays Without Losing Your Faith, Your Friends, or Your Mind

My book, When God Says, “Wait,” ministers to women who are waiting—including those enduring the painful wait for a child. You can sign up for updates from my ministry here, and purchase the book here.  


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