Dear Daisy,

I anticipate your stems sprouting from the ground every spring, and I can feel you again. When summer approaches, your petals will showcase their beauty in the sunlight. I will close my eyes and take a deep breath, and for a moment, you are here in my arms. I imagine your bright blue eyes mirroring mine. Your smile is the brightest star in the sky. Your laugh roars, filling the earth with glee as you play with the other neighbor kids in nature. It is easy to get lost in the daydream.

Before you, I was giving my body away to men who didn’t deserve it. Drowning underneath insecurities and self-loathing, allowing myself to be treated as a piece of property that could be used and abused by men. Convincing myself that I wasn’t worth love, I kept telling myself that this was how I wanted to feel: worthless and nothing.

My period did not come. I kept telling myself, no, it isn’t possible. I was in denial. Adults have a superpower of lying to themselves, so incredibly powerful that they believe it until they can no longer outrun it. The truth will always rear its head, and it’s heartbreaking.

That morning in June, I awoke with intense cramps. I convinced my twenty-six-year-old self that my period was coming… three months late. Treating it as a typical day, I went to work. As I was Chatting with my coworkers, one of them being your father, about planning a fun night out, I felt a cramp, and a gush of blood erupted flowing outside of me. I ran to the third stall in the bathroom, and I saw it. I could no longer deny what was happening. I was losing you, Daisy.

Turning back into a childhood state of mind, I called my mother, and she rushed me to the hospital. Blood was seeping me through like a waterfall. When they came to tell me I was losing you, my heart tore in such a way that I am still unable to put into direct words. I hadn’t even developed the courage to tell your father you were coming; now I would have to say to him you were gone just as quickly as I accepted you were alive.

He was kind enough, but wasn’t the emotional support I needed then. He didn’t understand why I changed and didn’t want to be a “coworker with benefits anymore.” He got upset with me when I wouldn’t fulfill his desires, even though the doctors told me it wasn’t safe for me to do until I stopped bleeding. I did not want to be an object of his desire anymore.

I bled from June to August. Part of me didn’t want to stop bleeding because that would mean you were truly gone. I wanted even those parts of you to stay. The day the blood stopped, I put my hand on my empty womb and wept. It was two days past my twenty-seventh birthday.

I had spent most of my life avoiding any feelings of vulnerability. Losing you was the first time I felt every emotion in my body: sadness, anger, regret, and eventually relief. The truth is, Daisy, I wasn’t ready for you, and I will never know if that could’ve changed in time for your arrival. Granting myself to succumb to my emotions took me from a shell, and I embraced the complete existence of myself as a person and a woman.

After hours of self-reflection, I realized I was not stuck with anyone. Cutting the ties, I focused on building myself as a strong and confident woman. I promised myself never to give my body away until I could say to myself, “I love you.” Somehow, I got there. I felt the wind hit my face, and you said, “You got this, Mommy.”

Experiencing a miscarriage has given me unwavering strength to tackle obstacles that dare come my way. I am intelligent, I am kind, I am important. I am grateful for every ounce of pain and emptiness I felt in my body. Never again will I throw my feelings into a drawer and pretend they aren’t there. I can articulate when I am hurting and ask for support from people around me. The experience made me a whole person, not the robot society deems the most acceptable. My strengths and weaknesses make me whole, just the way I am. And Daisy, that is the most freeing feeling anyone can be. Through you, I discovered how to love myself.

You are the world, Daisy. I never gave you a name. I planted the prettiest seed to remember you, and will continue to bloom for you and me.

I Love You Always,

Your Mom

The year was 1996. Even though the weather was beautiful and there was a certain peace in the air; my nerves were on overload. My heart began racing the minute I decided to try out for my high school Cross Country team.This is the real kicker; I have never ran in my life. I had just transferred to St. Vincent Pallotti High School from Laurel High School. I wanted to be part of a team. More than that I wanted to meet new friends. My dad ran cross country in High School and was good at it. Secretly, I also had a mission to follow in my dads footsteps. The voices in my head were playing devils advocate saying, ” You can’t do this.” ” You have never ran long distances; your going to pass out.” Every negative thought was going through my head as my feet hit the ground!My heart began racing faster as soon as we lined up to start our five mile run. I begin to run; trying to zone every negative thought out. As team members passed me I began to ask my self why am I putting myself through this embarrassment. At this point my stomach is cramping, my legs are sore and I feel like my body is going to limp any minute. Next, I begin to dry heave. Oh no, I hope no one saw that. At this point I just want to quit but then something comes over me. My internal high says, ” You got this.” I came to this challenging course to prove something. Running is more mental than physical! First, I am going to make this team. Next, I am going to win at least one medal for the season and last I am going to gain self confidence where doubting my own ability is not the first thing that comes to my mind. Even though I wanted to give up more than once that day I didn’t. I went on that season to win multiple ribbons, medals and even coaches award. This all came out of a teenage young lady that never ran more than a mile before making the team. Running has stayed part of my family and my life. I am excited to be a Girls on the Run coach for 3rd-5th graders for three years now. My coaching style is a lot like my coach was back in High School. I coach to build up the girls self esteem, to strengthen their endurance, to prepare them for a 5K and above all to teach them a team is like a family. Teams succeed together! I love to inspire my own daughter to believe in her self as well. She is on her second year as a cross country runner. These core beliefs of teamwork, confidence building, hard work ethics and unity would of never came if I gave up back on that sunny day in 1996.

My aura is black.
Black because they tried to singe me with deeds,
Black like the sooty soil that nurtures her seeds.
Black because before they knew who I was,
When I was given no choice or even some gauze
Black like the bird that sings to be free
Black because my memories haunt me

Black like the sheep who’s breaking chains.
Black like the hole that’s swallowing pain.
Black like the smoke twirling up through the sky
Black like the panther and her silent battle cry
Black like the ash that softens the earth
Black because now she knows her worth

Black like THAT little dress, brilliant;
the one that makes every woman feel resilient.
Black like the lace of her wings
Black in the sky that midnight brings
Black like the velvet in her gentle coos
Black like silk skin that into she grew

So now instead of green, red, or indigo
My aura is black
Black like obsidian
Black like pearls
Black like geodes
Black because my shadows healed it so.