It had to be in here somewhere, searching through the entire room to no avail, I decided to take a break. It would probably come to me if I calmed down. Now, the last time I saw it was … making a sharp turn she headed for the spare bedroom, yes that’s were I left it, it had to go. Walking straight to the dresser, I picked it up, flipping through it my resolve grew, but so did my guilt. Heading towards the bin I opened it, but couldn’t bring myself to take the final step. The sense of loss for something I hadn’t really felt, but knew without a doubt it existed wrecked havoc in my mind. Slumping to the floor, I proceeded to cry my eyes out.

Parking in the drive way after a hectic twelve hour shift, Greg felted shattered and apprehensive, the wrong mood to approach whatever scene lay within the house. These things were easier to handle when they didn’t come home with you. Helping a patient deal with their grief is one thing, helping a loved one when you were grieving as well was a higher mountain to climb. At least with a patient, you could make a clean break, it doesn’t come home with you: where do you go when for a break when the lose was yours to bear as well? The strain between them was starting to do his head in. Accepting that sitting here in the harsh morning breeze and worrying won’t get him anywhere, he got out of the car.

                          Copyright draliman

I knew he had gotten home, I knew he was dreading what my mood would be like. I didn’t begrudge him the feeling of weariness or a desire to be comforted. He had really been wonderful, through it all, well except for last night before he left for work.Whilst he sat in the car I placed the album on the table, it held the scan of the baby we lost two weeks ago. I dried my tears, washed my face, put the kettle on with plans to brew a warm cup of chamomile tea. I approached the door, opening it a hair breath before he knocked. Two pairs of eyes filled with sorrow, heartache and love spoke to each other, they told of how forbearance would bring them through and on the back drop of a sunrise that mirrored their present state they embraced each other. A hug that spoke of new hope arising from the ashes of a burnt out dark night.

We sat together and looked through the scan pictures, we grieved and mourned our loss: the sunrise that never really came. We would give ourselves time to heal together, it was the only way we would survive. Tomorrow was another sunrise to come.

This is written for all mothers who suffered a miscarriage, please accept my empathy. I know I might not have captured the emotions aptly, but I felt the need to write this piece. It was inspired by this pictures by  Draliman. Do click on the link to have a look.


2 thoughts on “Sunrise.

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