Like a salve for the soul, this was everything I didn’t know I needed to consume this morning. I delivered twins at 22 weeks in midwinter 2022, and life since has taken the shape of them.
Now reclined in a rocking chair as their brother sleeps with his head on my chest, ear to my heart, baby hair just beneath my nose, I remember keenly the feeling of their tiny bodies upon my chest in the hospital — witnessing such fragile life before we’re ever meant to.
I wrote prolifically in the wake of my babies’ death, like a severed artery I bled out the pain and peace and beauty and grief of that time. I wrote of all the things I wish I knew — what color their eyes would have been, if they’d have had my curls, how their hearts would have loved — I wrote about how they arrived too soon, like a California spring in the middle of winter: reaching for life and light before winter’s dark days had passed; hollow bones and downy feathers, born ready to fly.
I know “story hunger” so well — my heart yearns for the company of these stories, as if in some way these stories of might offer the comfort of company to not only me but my lost sons as well, like every lost baby is joined together someplace beautiful.
For those who have read this far, I will add a resource for stillbirth (thebluestcircle.org), and a poignant book of poetry I found there: ‘Path of Totality’ by Niina Pollari, as well as ‘The Silk the Moths Ignore,’ poems on miscarriage by Bronwen Tate. Finally, I will leave this quote about the metamorphosis of a butterfly, from Rebecca Solnit’s ‘A Field Guide to Getting Lost’: “We have not much language to appreciate this phase of decay, this withdrawal, this era of ending that must precede beginning. Nor of the violence of the metamorphosis, which is often spoken of as though it were as graceful as a flower blooming.”
I cannot express in this moment how deeply grateful I am for this guest post, for Jennie’s words and this platform from which they can fly. My heart swells in the company of all who’ve found this place, and it aches heavily, all over again. Wishing the deepest of peace to all who walk this path, of all who undergo the “violence of this metamorphosis.”
Thank you so much for sharing this. I experienced a termination for medical reasons (trisomy 18 and heart problems that our daughter couldn't survive) this March and it's been a soul-splitting, life-exploding year after a previous miscarriage. There's been so much grief and trauma, but also unexpected pockets of beauty, meaning, growth, and better understanding of life.
I've stumbled upon so many of these books along the way (all of which spoke the language I craved, especially An Exact Replica). I'll be adding Tom de Freston's memoir and The Hollow Sea to my reading list. Another excellent addition is Waves by Ingrid Chabbert, a short and incredibly moving graphic novel about one woman's journey to pregnancy with her wife, the loss that followed, and her first steps to healing and rebuilding through art and writing books (and getting a dog). Also healing: sourdough baking, balcony gardening, and embroidery sets from Etsy to make something beautiful.
A beautiful comment. I'm so sorry for the soul-splitting loss. You should be proud of yourself for finding your way through, aided by food and craft and art
I’m so sorry, Lucy - and soul-splitting is such a good description. (I agree about the tone of An Exact Replica - I like how spiky she is, at times). And yes to healing activities that keep your hands busy - gardening and baking have been big ones for me, too. Although I’ve not attempted the sourdough so far… xx
I'm so sorry for your losses too, Jennie. Thank you for sharing them - in such beautiful and compassionate writing, here and in your book - to help others feel so much less alone ❤️
Thank you so much for this Jennie. Plenty to add to my reading list. I’m not finding the story hunger leaves me (are you still reading those grief books my mother in law says) but perhaps it broadens, becomes less ravenous, but no less necessary to feel sustained.
Completely agree - I’m definitely still reading ‘those grief books’! Sustaining is a good word for why. Also, it’s amazing how often I’ll pick something to read thinking it’ll be a bit of light relief…and hidden away inside is something on this theme. It’s like once you start looking for it, you realise it’s everywhere. Xxx
Thank you Jennie and thanks for asking her to write this Pandora. I've watched a friend going thorugh her second miscarriage wishing this list existed as we both read to make sense of things. Thank you thank you thank you.
I’ve always loved that poem by Sylvia Plath. I took a poetry seminar my freshman year at Duke and found there was something about the frank nature of her poetry that I really responded to. I’ve been reading her poetry more often lately, and so much of it resonates now that I have had so much more life experience than I did at 18.
Like a salve for the soul, this was everything I didn’t know I needed to consume this morning. I delivered twins at 22 weeks in midwinter 2022, and life since has taken the shape of them.
Now reclined in a rocking chair as their brother sleeps with his head on my chest, ear to my heart, baby hair just beneath my nose, I remember keenly the feeling of their tiny bodies upon my chest in the hospital — witnessing such fragile life before we’re ever meant to.
I wrote prolifically in the wake of my babies’ death, like a severed artery I bled out the pain and peace and beauty and grief of that time. I wrote of all the things I wish I knew — what color their eyes would have been, if they’d have had my curls, how their hearts would have loved — I wrote about how they arrived too soon, like a California spring in the middle of winter: reaching for life and light before winter’s dark days had passed; hollow bones and downy feathers, born ready to fly.
I know “story hunger” so well — my heart yearns for the company of these stories, as if in some way these stories of might offer the comfort of company to not only me but my lost sons as well, like every lost baby is joined together someplace beautiful.
For those who have read this far, I will add a resource for stillbirth (thebluestcircle.org), and a poignant book of poetry I found there: ‘Path of Totality’ by Niina Pollari, as well as ‘The Silk the Moths Ignore,’ poems on miscarriage by Bronwen Tate. Finally, I will leave this quote about the metamorphosis of a butterfly, from Rebecca Solnit’s ‘A Field Guide to Getting Lost’: “We have not much language to appreciate this phase of decay, this withdrawal, this era of ending that must precede beginning. Nor of the violence of the metamorphosis, which is often spoken of as though it were as graceful as a flower blooming.”
I cannot express in this moment how deeply grateful I am for this guest post, for Jennie’s words and this platform from which they can fly. My heart swells in the company of all who’ve found this place, and it aches heavily, all over again. Wishing the deepest of peace to all who walk this path, of all who undergo the “violence of this metamorphosis.”
Thank you so much, Holly - and I'm so sorry for your losses. (That Rebecca Solnit quote is incredible, thank you for sharing). xx
https://www.thebluestcircle.com/
Thank you so much for sharing this Holly - and for your thoughtful comment
Thank you so much for sharing this. I experienced a termination for medical reasons (trisomy 18 and heart problems that our daughter couldn't survive) this March and it's been a soul-splitting, life-exploding year after a previous miscarriage. There's been so much grief and trauma, but also unexpected pockets of beauty, meaning, growth, and better understanding of life.
I've stumbled upon so many of these books along the way (all of which spoke the language I craved, especially An Exact Replica). I'll be adding Tom de Freston's memoir and The Hollow Sea to my reading list. Another excellent addition is Waves by Ingrid Chabbert, a short and incredibly moving graphic novel about one woman's journey to pregnancy with her wife, the loss that followed, and her first steps to healing and rebuilding through art and writing books (and getting a dog). Also healing: sourdough baking, balcony gardening, and embroidery sets from Etsy to make something beautiful.
A beautiful comment. I'm so sorry for the soul-splitting loss. You should be proud of yourself for finding your way through, aided by food and craft and art
I’m so sorry, Lucy - and soul-splitting is such a good description. (I agree about the tone of An Exact Replica - I like how spiky she is, at times). And yes to healing activities that keep your hands busy - gardening and baking have been big ones for me, too. Although I’ve not attempted the sourdough so far… xx
I'm so sorry for your losses too, Jennie. Thank you for sharing them - in such beautiful and compassionate writing, here and in your book - to help others feel so much less alone ❤️
💛
Thank you so much for this Jennie. Plenty to add to my reading list. I’m not finding the story hunger leaves me (are you still reading those grief books my mother in law says) but perhaps it broadens, becomes less ravenous, but no less necessary to feel sustained.
Completely agree - I’m definitely still reading ‘those grief books’! Sustaining is a good word for why. Also, it’s amazing how often I’ll pick something to read thinking it’ll be a bit of light relief…and hidden away inside is something on this theme. It’s like once you start looking for it, you realise it’s everywhere. Xxx
Thank you Jennie and thanks for asking her to write this Pandora. I've watched a friend going thorugh her second miscarriage wishing this list existed as we both read to make sense of things. Thank you thank you thank you.
you sound like a remarkable friend <3 i wish everyone had one to help them find the art they need in grief
I’m so glad it resonates - and how lucky your friend is to have you by her side! Thank you for reading. X
Thank you so much for these. I'm always looking out for more on this subject to help with my healing. This will really help.
I'm so glad it's helpful Elizabeth. Sending you love.
I’ve always loved that poem by Sylvia Plath. I took a poetry seminar my freshman year at Duke and found there was something about the frank nature of her poetry that I really responded to. I’ve been reading her poetry more often lately, and so much of it resonates now that I have had so much more life experience than I did at 18.
Her biography also brings me to my knees
This is so beautiful and enlightening. Thank you Jennie Agg.
💛