Undertow

I'm not as good with finding the right words as some would think. Wearing these emotions so elaborately can sometimes be embarrassing but this is an attempt to bring closure to a door that's been kept open and awareness to the parents who have suffered due to the careless errors of those who claimed to have their best interest in mind.

Like a doctor that tells you it's alright not to feel much movement during your third trimester but your baby festers and the days get so dark and it's not your fault but you can't help but to blame yourself. So I send my condolences, I want you to know that I hope this helps.

I wish I could find the right words to say that would somehow heal the wound and ease the pain. But right now, all that I could show is that you are not alone. Understandably, this grieving process has been met with so much misunderstanding. A life I now live in constant panic, begging God to assess the damage but nevertheless, I still try my best to handle it.

Because of that disastrous malpractice, every poem I've written since then is a fragment of this broken man. I'm giving away pieces of myself for you to better comprehend the state I'm in; the bouts with manic depression, the regret and disconnection I feel in my life but I swear that I won't let it take me down without a fight.

I'm doing my best to survive.

When it came to hell or high water, I could've either burned in my rage or drowned in a sea of sorrow. There was no shallow end, the option was to either sink or swim, and I still find myself gasping for air but this is life as I know it until I finally leave here.

There are some who have sown with tears and have reaped with joyful songs. I just haven't got there yet. This weight, it still caves in my chest and its waters have filled my lungs. Resuscitated but numb. I'm missing one of the biggest parts of my heart but for the sake of my family, I choose to carry on.

Still, the greatest lie that I could've ever believed was that when it came to losing you, it couldn't happen to me.