Down, down, down
Natasza’s personal reflection captures the grief, loss and isolation after a pregnancy loss.
For now I am still treading water, my arms may seem like they’re gracefully fanning out across the still waters of the well but below the surface my legs are kicking furiously to keep my head afloat.
The walls are curved and close and smooth. So smooth I can’t find anything to cling on to. I desperately claw at the sides but they’ve been worn so smooth by all those that have gone before me and, like my predecessors, my fingers can’t find purchase, I keep falling. I can just see a light above me, but it’s circle is getting smaller. I can see many arms, and hands reaching, stretching out to me but they are too far away to grasp, I can’t grab hold, and even if I could I’m not sure I’d want to for fear of dragging their owners down too.
I guess I’ll hit the bottom soon but just when I think it’s coming I find myself sinking lower. Still I know there will come an end, there has to, nothing lasts for ever. Even my love for you won’t last forever, but I know that it will last as long as I am living. As long as my heart is beating I am your forever.
I stop falling, well I stop free falling and start sinking! I’ve hit water! Now I have a choice, to float or to sink? Well I know which would be easier, yet despite this I find myself treading water. To sink would be the end of my forever, no more loving you, no more loving them, no hope of love to come. So it’s no choice really, even though staying afloat takes so much more effort.
I’ve been treading water for a while now, it’s hard to tell time passing down here but I can barely even remember a time before the fall. Yet it must have been a while as my tears have begun to fill the well and they have lifted me higher. I can see the ring of light above growing bigger, I can see blurry faces looking down. The outstretched hands are no longer on offer though. I wonder if that’s because I no longer look like I’m drowning or if they know I won’t grab hold even if they offered? Well I guess that’s my fault, but who could blame me for not wanting to pull them down with me. I feel so alone, even though I can see the others up there looking down they aren’t down here with me, which is a good thing, just one person down here is one too many!
I know at some point I’ll have cried enough to raise the water level enough and lift me up towards the surface, maybe then I’ll risk asking for a hand up. I start to wonder if I’ll ever get out or will I just get close enough to the surface to be able to take part in the conversation without actually fitting in. If I ever do get out will I be the same as before the fall? Will people look at me and notice that I’m still soaking wet from the well. Will I forever go though life leaving puddles where I stand, the girl who cried herself out of the well. Maybe I’ll dry off under the blinding sunlight when I’m finally out in the open air but will my tell tale wrinkled fingertips give me away as I shake hands with strangers? Maybe the only ones who’ll notice will be those with matching scars?
Well? Well I’ll let you know when I get there. For now I am still treading water, my arms may seem like they’re gracefully fanning out across the still waters of the well but below the surface my legs are kicking furiously to keep my head afloat.
A voice echoes down ‘how are you doing?’
Well I’m not sinking so I guess I’m ok? ‘I’m ok’ I mange to call back
Well, what else can I say?