Allow us to mourn

My husband said he was going to pick a few things, it is now seven months -since that day. ‘What shall I tell the triplets?’

Allow me to mourn.

My son did not return from the front line – his friends say, when the bomb exploded, he exploded.

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.
Isaiah 40:1 KJV

He promised me heaven, and bought me dozens of roses – but would have nothing to do with the baby. They scrapped my womb, and dropped the lifeless one to a bin.

Allow me to mourn.

There was no cry, the room became a frenzy but still no cry. My baby had gone. She was carried away from me, disposed of, unnamed, unmentionable, to be forgotten. I cannot forget.

Allow me to mourn.

The rains failed, the seeds did not bud. Their cries became faint, I couldn’t crawl over to comfort them, I had no comfort to give. My children, one by one, their feeble cries ceased, all seven not even one remains.

In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.
Matthew 2:18 KJV

You had a silent miscarriage. ‘What?’ Your body forgot to tell you, your baby died. ‘How?’ We shall need to remove the foetus. ‘Why?’ Madam, it’s now a danger to your body. ‘I don’t want!! leave my baby !! Leave us alone.’

Allow me to mourn.

It was a group of them, they surrounded me, groped me and hit me when I screamed. I fell to the ground, they dragged me further away into the dark. One by one, till all I saw was darkness…. The doctors say I may never have my own children.

He grabbed my hands and led me away, ‘it’s a new game!’ I happily followed, giggling all the way. He had his way with me… What game is this? I had lost something, what was it? I was bleeding, he had lied, it was not a game.

Allow me to mourn.

I was never allowed to decide. They would visit my room every night, and pleasure themselves with my body. My head was covered with a pillow, no one heard my screams for help. No one taught me to say No. I am an object of pleasure, don’t ask me to feel. I don’t know how to feel.

Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.

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