Spoken word: miscarriage

Welcome back to The Made For More podcast. Welcome to my first ever spoken word, and probably my most vulnerable share to date. I went through and carried this invisible pain and in a form of trying to process it I wrote and recorded my first ever spoken word. 

Part of me sharing this is part of me healing. Please listen and respond with care as you step into a real lived experience and am still carrying. 

I am so incredibly sorry if you relate to this is anyway and are walking through life carrying any type of invisible pain. 

Please know you are not alone and better days are ahead!

With love, Miranda  

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Hey guys, welcome back to the Made for More podcast. Today is gonna look different. I'm going to be sharing an extremely vulnerable part of something that I created a couple of months ago when I was grieving and going through a very invisible pain that I have carried. I am going to be sharing my very first ever spoken word. I wrote and recorded this from a very personal and vulnerable place trying to process what I was actually living. So today I'm sharing with you my spoken word on miscarriage. I found out I wasn't before I could have ever known what had been. Hormonally, you were real. The body prepared and then released you far too early. I didn't even get a chance to see those double pink lines. And now I'll ask myself, does it make it easier or harder? How do you expect yourself to recognize something you had never been through before? Grief was the only familiar thing, but why was it here? It felt like I had all these tears attached to nothing, but nothing wouldn't ache quite like this. They say the body keeps score, and if you listen, it does. My body was speaking in emotions before my mind could understand what was happening. Instead of asking, what if, I just grieved quietly. Because a mother's intuition is undeniable. My body knew, my soul cried, and my mind eventually caught up to the reality of what was and what is. Avoiding it didn't freeze time. Medically, they said there was no proof you were ever real. No test results, no answers, why? Just results of an aching grief with a lingering sting. My body had already shed and already started to heal. So they labeled you as an irregular cycle. It felt invalidating because the body gave evidence of what late test results could not. How do you brush off something so real? How can you minimize what I actually lived? They sent me home with my confusion and false hope. They said sometimes this happens in early pregnancy. The days that followed came with its emotional whiplash. The symptoms were gone, but the sadness had stayed. Now I live in the gray area, what was real to my body, yet invisible to everyone else. I'll never know what could have been, but I choose to trust God in the unseen. Maybe he released what wasn't meant for us, even if that hurts. I can trust my body for responding the way that it naturally did. I'm loosening my grip of the weight of all of the why as I surrender to my need for any type of validation. Because my intuition knows what was real and what mattered. The only failure here would be pretending like nothing happened. Any loss at any stage is still a loss of what could have been. And this is a loss that felt internally known. Somehow my body just knew to grieve. I am different now because surely you carried a piece of me away with you. I guess this extension of never ending grief keeps me connected to what was once there. The days will go by as I wear my invisible pain until one day in heaven when we meet again.