Pain – A Poem

In commemoration of International Women’s Day, I’m publishing a poem entitled “Pain”, and written by Duggi in 2015 after a miscarriage.

Pain

Eight weeks and gone, not long they say
Not even a face or a sex on display
A slight anticipation and perhaps a few hopes
Some extra vitamins plus the thought – can we cope?

Then the pain starts, just mild at first
Then I start to see Red. Clutch my side as it gets worse
I try to carry on. Only eight weeks, not long
It could be so much worse, moping just – feels wrong

Then it heats up, the pain disabling
Doubled over, I give in. The doctor starts labelling
I squirm in my chair, can’t hide it anymore
She yells at me; my pain is raw.

YOU NEED TO STAY HERE. YOU NEED TO REST
YOU HAVE TO STOP. YOU ARE A MESS!
But – I need to go home, my son is unwell
I need to be a mother, and this place is hell!

Soon I have no choice, surgery, an infection so severe
The woman is right. I need to be here
Still, I won’t see, don’t want to admit…
I’ve seen far worse losses; this is barely a hit!

Months go on, the pain sticks around
It moves, it changes, it’s lost, and then found
It’s only eight weeks so I don’t bother to mourn
Others have it worse they don’t seem forlorn

The world carries on…what’s in a pain?
There’s no loss in eight weeks, just some weight gain
It’s mostly the right side, sometimes in the middle
I tell this to my doctor, he tells me; you’re a Riddle.

I take the pain to a healer, say “I’m not sad, I’m fine”
“Ok” she says, nodding, “but your body needs Time.”
Friends try to cheer me up, whilst I complain
I don’t want to be happy; I want to share my pain

Months later, I walk to the nursery and see, a mum who was bigger
Did I imagine this…? Or did she just lose her figure?
I smile at her; enquire how she’s feeling and wonder… does she?
Does she feel the same way…when she’s looking at me?