Today, I’m writing you with a tender heart and an aching womb – having just experienced the loss of my first pregnancy.

Being someone who encourages creative expression and copes better in the presence of community and a feeling of belonging, I’ve been gently encouraging myself to express the feelings, words, and sounds that are moving through me during this intense and deeply potent moment in time. </p

Tuesday morning, I woke up with a poem on my heart which I’ve shared below.

I share it for me – so you can see me, in all my grief and pain and simultaneous joy.

I also share this for all the “me too’s” out there I’ve been receiving over the past several days. To further weave the fabric of sisterhood and unite women in their untold stories of what it means to walk this earth with a womb space.

Thank you for witnessing me, sister.

You came to me in a meditation
3 years ago

A sweet cherub faced little boy
bounding through the front door
holding your father’s hand so tightly
It felt so deeply right to hold you in my arms.⠀

I’d see you – at the library or coffee shop
My heart would burst with love
knowing you were near and excited to enter our lives⠀

A week after your spirit entered my body
I dreamt of giving birth to you
alone in a bathtub
you were enormous
and I felt a love so powerful
I lost my breath for a moment⠀

For 7 weeks, we communed
we were finally together⠀

5 days ago
I heard your heart beating
I could hardly believe it – 2 beating hearts in one body!⠀

We shared the news with your grandparents, aunts and uncles
Tears flowed – you were coming⠀

The moon rose full and bright that night
Something shifted in me

You weren’t staying
This wasn’t your time
to join us earthside ⠀

All the joy, the initiation, the unity of our souls in divine love
had reached completion⠀

You left
and the heart stopped beating ⠀

I knew
But we needed to hear it from the radiologist
spontaneous abortion ⠀

My body had begun passing what was left of you⠀

All night I moaned
clutching the hot water bottle to me
as my womb contracted
and the pieces flowed out of me⠀

Each time, humbling me
like little pearls⠀

A glimpse of the miracle of a woman’s womb⠀

The grief – a fog lifting and lowering within the hour
mourning what could have been


I’m free⠀

To create again
as a new woman
part maiden
part mother⠀

Thank you, my darling⠀

I release you with a tender
and hopeful heart⠀

– Becca Piastrelli, March 2017

A Poem To Honor My Miscarriage

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