Friday, May 30, 2014

Five Minute Friday: Nothing

I run the water and sink back deep into my white retreat.  The sound of the water fills my ears and its warmth encases my body.  I slide my fingers over the space that had held life and now doesn't.  I had only known it was there for a short time and now it is gone.

"Why did you even give just to take away?!"  my heart and sobs break.  "I told you I could not handle loss such as this.  I told you I am not strong enough for this!  WHY? WHY?!  I don't understand!"

The burgeoning life that was here one moment is now gone.  I went from being filled with someone to being filled with nothing.  Nothing is left.

I don't even know when it slipped from me; the life and the form it held. I just know it is no more.

I turn off the water, but I can't turn off my tears, my hurt, my empty.

Two weeks earlier

I hold the stick in my hand, the one that will tell me what my future holds.  Two lines.  Two.  My future holds you, an unknown yet suddenly deeply known person.  I want you. I love you. You are my future.

Three days earlier

My sister and I sit across from each other eating lunch.  I tell her about you.  I also tell her about the spots of pink I have been finding.  I am trying hard not to worry.  I have spotted before and all has been well. This time doesn't feel the same though.  I rub my belly where you are growing and I tell you to hold on, keep growing.

One day earlier

I am bleeding, no longer just pink spots.  I am really scared for you and for me.  We go to the hospital. They do an ultrasound.  The doctor says he can still see you, but you look pretty low, not where you should be. He says not to worry, there is still a chance.  He gives me hope.  

Earlier that morning

The bleeding is worse.  I go to the hospital for a follow up ultrasound.  The woman is horribly insensitive. She has no idea how much I already love you and hope that you are still okay despite the odds and the red, all the red that says you aren't.  She comes and she goes three times talking to her boss.  She isn't finding anything.  He makes her come back and look more because they had seen you last night.  She tells me how that doctor last night should never had said he saw you, now her job is harder.

She pushes down hard on your home that is my womb and the red rushes out and I curse her in my mind because I feel like she is pushing you out. 

"Wow, you really are bleeding aren't you?"

She is finally able to confirm my fears.  You are gone.  

"You can go get dressed now"

I can hardly see for the tears streaming down my face. I don't know how I find the strength to dress myself and walk out to the car. You are gone and with you the future that stick had promised.  

Just shy of 7 years later

I still think about you.  I still wonder why you were given just to be taken.  I still love you.  You will always be someone to me.  The kids took to calling you pooh bear, the baby Mommy lost in her tummy.  So my Pooh Bear, my womb and my arms may have been left empty and filled with nothing when you left, but one day I will meet you and I will get to hold you.

Five Minute Friday


  1. Your held. Your tears are held even when you don't feel it.
    You and Pooh Bear are in the palm of His hand.

  2. I don't know if there are any words to say how beautiful, tragic and grace-filled this post is. I am only left to wonder at all the ways God filled in the nothing that was left after this experience. Thanks for writing this.

  3. I so wish I could hug you, Karmen. Thank you for daring to open the door for us to journey back with you, such a moving glimpse of a deep loss. I appreciate you sharing this. It's so important to know and remember all of the a friend's children. I've recently walked through this with a close friend, so your story further opens my eyes to an experience I've never had. One day, friend. One day, you're little Pooh will be waiting. Love you.

  4. My heart breaks with you, Karmen. I'm so sorry for the loss of your little Pooh Bear and the insensitivity of the nurse. HUGS!

  5. I am so sorry--for your loss and your insensitive treatment by the medical staff. So thankful you will be reunited again!

  6. Thank you all for your kindness and sweetness. It is interesting, yesterday as I was taking my 9 year old and her friends to watch a ballet with their church class my girl said out the of the blue: "We actually have 8 children in our family. We have the one that mommy lost who is in heaven now with Jesus." I had not said anything about this post or that baby for a long time. I guess little Pooh Bear wasn't only on my heart this week. And to partially answer your wondering KJL a month after that baby left me God filled me with another sweet baby who I did get to meet and a couple of years later another sweet baby. The new babies did not replace the lost one, but it did help to fill some of the empty.

  7. Oh, Karman, I'm so sorry for your loss. I hate it when people are insensitive and don't 'get' what someone is going through. May God continue to bless you and your family.


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