a love song from the early days

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there was nothing –

no sound
no movement
no hope.

one night you were assuredly with me
and the next morning, gone...
unexpected and torrential
in its suddenness and cruelty.

i fumble through empty air,
visiting dark places
to etch you into my skin,
and i watch in horror
as the last bits of you drip from below,
sweet smelling remnants of your lifelines
that utterly failed.

 the fullness in my chest 
has finally begun to evaporate,
a sure sign my body’s dream of you
is really giving up.

this cursed body of mine, a walking grave, 
a shallow coffin,
now scarred by an indescribable kind 
of maternal violence
that i shudder to absorb.

 as i bleed the last of your precious being
into my underwear,
i perch on the toilet in stillness,
trying to will the process to slow down,
to retain a tiny piece
of what took 32 weeks to grow
and a millisecond to fall in love with.

instead, you keep slowly draining away
and i do, too
with my only recourse
to moan on the bathroom floor 
clutching your pink baby blanket,
begging please don’t leave me, sweet girl,

 oh my baby girl, please please don’t leave me

As we corresponded about this piece, Kathy wrote “the physical experience is hardly ever considered by other people but for us it is so deeply traumatic… thought it’d be good to connect on it.” Have you felt able to speak about this aspect of babyloss? Have others been able to listen? How do you connect to your own body in your grief?