I only knew you for a day.
When I first saw that test, disbelief.
A day of planning –
hiding tabs at work.
That evening, our son asleep.
A different kind of quiet fell.
Nothing to prove you were here.
Not even a name.
Telling you that I was fine.
Sunken eyes and wet cheeks,
when no one was around.
The guilt of sitting down,
realising I didn’t think of you today.
Only hearing one set of feet running to the door.
The only proof,
a lantern on the countertop,
and those two red lines,
still in the drawer.
One day reflects the experience of grieving a little life I only knew for a day, and the mix of loss, guilt and remembrance that followed.
Aaron shared this poem with us after describing the pressure he felt to be ‘the strong one’ and how he kept his grief to himself. He began writing poetry as a way to express those feelings, and hopes his words will help others, particularly partners and men affected by pregnancy loss, know they are not alone.