I originally saw writing as a welcome distraction from the stuffy history of art I was studying at university. I never dreamed it would help me heal from one of the most traumatic times of my life.
Before I knew it, I was writing about Amy—the baby I had given birth to 14 years earlier. Amy, whose heart did not beat outside of my womb, whose eyes did not open, whose legs stopped kicking. Big fat tears fell as I wrote. Reflecting on my miscarriage hurt like hell, and opening the musky-smelling bag of baby clothes I had kept gave me a distinctly painful physical sensation. I felt like an elephant's foot was on my chest. My throat was a snake that had swallowed something too big.
I hadn't expected the immense healing that came through the process of telling my story. Writing about the pain I had been trying to avoid over the years somehow helped distance me from it.
Here is the process that allowed me to write my way toward emotional recovery.