My Eyes Are Begging to Sleep; An Atypical Birth Story

The alarm buzzes.

I struggle to wake.

My eyes are stinging; begging to go back to sleep.

I want this day to be over.

I’m not ready.

It’s not fair; This can’t be happening.

I feel a hand on my back; rubbing for comfort.

My husband is awake.

My body goes through the motions of getting dressed; putting on whatever is on the floor.

I slowly open the door to my kids rooms; give them each a gentle kiss on the forehead.

They are peacefully sleeping.

Unaware.

The car ride is quiet; there is nothing to say.

My husband grabs my hand; we walk through the doors.

That stale smell hits you; the hospital.

I find myself holding my stomach; trying to hold on to him longer.

He’s gone though.

The nurses start talking to me; asking me questions.

I’m in a fog; going through the motions.

Stoic.

Conflicting emotions; wanting this all to be over yet wanting none of this to happen at all.

They take me back; I feel the IV going into my arm.

The mask on my face; drifting off to sleep.

They are taking him.

I feel the sting of my eyes again; for the second time today they don’t want to wake up.

The lights are bright; disoriented.

The pain; the cramps.

I quickly remember; He’s gone.

My husband finds me; His eyes have tears.

Mine have none; I’m numb.

No longer holding my stomach; there’s nothing left.

The world goes on;  no one can see.

My invisible pain for an ‘invisible’ baby; No one knew him like I did.

& now my invisible grief.

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Today marks the 3rd ‘birth’ day of my son Triton who i lost at 13 weeks gestation.  This is his birth story & the most difficult post i’ve written to date.

Devan McGuinness

is the founder and executive director of the award-winning resource Unspoken Grief .

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