Forgive me if I post a little sap today.  This time of year brings back a lot of memories and I thought I’d share them.

This September marks 17 years since my last miscarriage.  Or since the start of it, I suppose, since that one (my twelfth) sort of began in September, two days after our wedding, and lasted for several months of questions and waiting and bleeding and a D&C and more bleeding and finally emergency surgery on New Year’s Day. 

That was a very long fall.

I wrote this poem that fall, trying to hold on to the hope that I could ever become a mother.  I thought I’d share it today.


past quiet farms with their rows of trees,
past the wide fields of blonde, spent crops,
past the thin lakes where the pelicans drifted,
we drive in silence, squinting
at the eastern sun with its blood-red tints.
i know this road by heart.

each friday, and then mondays and wednesdays
too, we made this trip.  at first
full of hope, then fear, and then
acceptance.  i have grown used
to the needles, the tests, the death.
for a month i have kept her anyway, waiting.

 and some say i handle it wonderfully.
 and some say to just try again.
 and some say to get my sh*t together
 and come back to work.

the doctor says they don't know why.

we drive on to the hospital.

out the window, i watch the crisp trees
shed their own deaths.  for seven years
these seasons marked my failures.
i do not mourn their green. i am tired of grief.

we drive on, past all that once grew.
winter is coming, again.

(Alicia Bayer)

Two and a half years later, we had our first baby.  We were not sure if we’d ever have a child and then we had Victoria, then Anna, then Jack.  We decided to be practical and stop at three, and then were delighted to be wrong when Alex surprised us and became number four.  We were even more delighted to be wrong last year again, when I thought I was too old for babies and we thought we were being so careful, and baby Fiona blessed us with her delightful presence. 

It’s fall, and I’m watching the pelicans drift on the lakes, knowing they’ll soon by flying off until the weather warms up again.  Every time I look at those magical white birds, I remember that day so long ago.  I am so amazed by my luck and my blessings. 

I have never liked fall, but more and more it reminds me of that moment 17 years ago, watching the pelicans and holding on to hope in spite of logic. 

And I’m so thankful for that change of seasons.

Photo by Jack (age 9), edited by Anna (age 12)


Filed under Poems

12 responses to “Seasons

  1. very moving post…. I guess fate sometimes takes roads that are difficult to accept, difficult to understand, yet there’s a reason for everything somewhere….. so glad for you to have such a lovely family….
    hugs from me, from Germany,

  2. Ada

    Beautiful Post!
    I wrote a seasonal tid bit today as well, definitely in the air!

  3. What a touching post. I understand completely what you went through those 17 years ago…and before. Each season a waiting game. I, too, have known the same loss. I, too, received the blessing of a child, finally, through adoption. We waited for many years for our little guy to come to us, and while he has brought us joy beyond belief, and I realize how very blessed I am, at certain times of year, I remember the grief. I do not let go of it, because that would mean forgetting those little lives that just weren’t strong enough for whatever reason to survive. Thank you for such a heart-felt post. It spoke to my soul.

  4. Alycia

    Thank God for the change in seasons. We too traveled that road. The many trips to the hospital just to say goodbye in the end. We were among the lucky who were able to birth and hold the little body that was our daughter, Victoria. Now my wonderfully wacky boys speak of her often. They include her, whom they nicknamed Sissy, in many of talks about family and often claim a seat for at the table “if she was here”. Thanks you for sharing the poem.

  5. An absolutely beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing it with us.

  6. sam

    Im so happy for you. I had a similar story, its amazing how much it hurts to lose a pregnancy and how blessed you feel to finally hold your little baby years later.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s