Emptiness
I am writing this for The Scheherazade Project.
As I walk through the hallway my heart pounds, my ears buzz, my eyes glaze over. How is that in the midst of this crush of humanity I am still all alone? I walk next to someone, I brush a man's elbow, a woman's skirt swishes against my legs, yet I feel nothing.
Two weeks ago I found out the greatest news, I am pregnant. My beloved and I are expecting our first born. I have dreamed of being a mother since my very earliest memories. Such pure joy, rapture. I am going to be a mother. I tell no one. I want to keep this secret inside of me, just me and the baby for a few days longer. I don't even share it with my husband. I whisper to my child, I share the secrets of my life with them. I lie in bed at night rubbing the tight skin of my stomach and willing this little life to grow and develop.
Today I am empty. The fetus, my child has left. In a rush of pain and blood and agony it is over. As quickly as it began, it is done. All that is left is my hollowness. The hole in my heart that only my child, my dead child, could fill. I feel nothing.
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This piece is fiction, but based on true feelings that I have. Please feel free to give constructive criticism. I am interested in feedback.
As I walk through the hallway my heart pounds, my ears buzz, my eyes glaze over. How is that in the midst of this crush of humanity I am still all alone? I walk next to someone, I brush a man's elbow, a woman's skirt swishes against my legs, yet I feel nothing.
Two weeks ago I found out the greatest news, I am pregnant. My beloved and I are expecting our first born. I have dreamed of being a mother since my very earliest memories. Such pure joy, rapture. I am going to be a mother. I tell no one. I want to keep this secret inside of me, just me and the baby for a few days longer. I don't even share it with my husband. I whisper to my child, I share the secrets of my life with them. I lie in bed at night rubbing the tight skin of my stomach and willing this little life to grow and develop.
Today I am empty. The fetus, my child has left. In a rush of pain and blood and agony it is over. As quickly as it began, it is done. All that is left is my hollowness. The hole in my heart that only my child, my dead child, could fill. I feel nothing.
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This piece is fiction, but based on true feelings that I have. Please feel free to give constructive criticism. I am interested in feedback.
posted by Ditto at
10:14 AM
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