Rachel shares how following miscarriages she recently had a total hysterectomy. Her journey has been long and painful and she is now a childless stepmum. She has written a poem about childlessness, “The Empty Room” to help her process her journey, and to share with others who are on their own journey, so they know they’re not alone. Rachel also hopes her poem gives people hope for the future.

“Following miscarriages, a journey that ultimately led to divorce, surgeries and years of trying to manage my pain, I recently underwent a total hysterectomy including my ovaries and tubes. Endometriosis was everywhere and I had adhesions from previous surgeries. 

My journey to this point has been long and painful in every sense of the word. I’ve received support from Baby loss awareness and Aching Arms, both of which brought me comfort.

I’m now remarried and am a childless stepmum to three teens; one of the most isolating and challenging aspects of childlessness. 

I wanted to write a poem to help me process and to share with others who are on their own journey, so they know they’re not alone. I also hope it gives people hope for the future. 

The Empty Room

My womb, a room to house a priceless gift —

a safe place, a happy space,

full of hope and dreams to come.

 

A home for the small ones I could not keep, or meet.

The names I never got to use out loud.

No one to ever call me Mummy.

No body, no grave to grieve.

 

My body was supposed to know how to hold on.

Now it's an expert in letting go.

Now there's not even an empty room —

just a room that's empty.

 

I finally gave birth, but not to a baby.

Instead, to a gnarly, bulky uterus,

cyst-ridden ovaries, twisted fallopian tubes.

Fibroids hitched a ride too —

Spider-Man had spun his sticky webs

all over my insides.

Certainly no superhero in this story.

 

Blown up inside, left to look like a mother

in her third trimester.

How ironic. How cruel.

 

And now I'm left with relief

and grief,

and nowhere for it to go.

 

My hollow insides healing —

not just from surgery,

but from years of physical and mental pain.

 

And so a new door opens

where many have closed before.

Another room. Unfamiliar territory.

This one looks kinder, gentler,

more welcoming —

 

a room for grief,

and hope,

and freedom.”