I used to think everything would work out for the best.
If only I hoped hard enough, prayed hard enough.
When it didn’t turn out for the best, my world changed.
I used to love differently, trust differently, feel differently.
I am not the person I used to be.
Loss changed me, grief changed me.
Everything does not happen for a reason.
What reason could there possibly be to deprive me the chance to hold them, love them, mother them.
I am not the person I used to be.
I put my faith, hope, and trust in you, but in that one sentence,
“I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat,”
I found myself questioning all I ever believed to be true.
There is no name for the person I became that day.
When a woman loses her husband, she becomes a widow.
What does a woman who loses her unborn child become?
What is her name?
I don’t have a name.
I don’t know what to do now.
I am struggling to find me.
The mother with no child to carry in her arms.
The mother who lovingly endured years of emotional and physical pain
To finally have her miracle, only to have it stripped away in an instant.
Where do I find the new me?
Is it in this chapter?
I stand still in the circle of grief, allowing the waves to wash over me.
In between the waves there are moments of joy, but I am not the person I used to be.
Your words sting.
I know you didn’t mean to hurt me but they sting.
They didn’t used to sting but I am not the person I used to be.
I caught a glimpse of your cleverly crafted announcement with the grainy image of your miracle.
I want to love it and you, but it hurts, so I quickly scroll past.
I am not the person I used to be.
Heal my shattered heart O’ Lord and mend its broken pieces.
I am not the person I used to be.
If I can’t be whole again, perhaps I can just be beautifully broken.
I am not the person I used to be.