What was Here, Now is Not

Oxford Book of Death

by D. J. Enright

“No different, I said, from rat’s or chicken’s,

That ten-week protoplasmic blob. But you

Cried as if you knew all that was nonsense

And knew that I did, too.

Well, I had to say something. And there

Seemed so little anyone could say.

That life had been in women’s wombs before

And gone away?

This was our life. And yet, when the dead

Are mourned a little, then become unreal,

How should the never born be long remembered?

So this in time will heal

Though now I cannot comfort. As I go

The doctor reassures: ‘Straightforward case.

You’ll find of course, it leaves her rather low.’

Something is gone from your face.

~David Sutton (1944) (as cited in Enright 109)

             When does life begin? A frequently asked question to be sure; however, it is particular that when a child is lost before, during, or after birth, we attempt to soften the blow by saying that they never truly lived. In our hearts, though, we all know that it is not true, and the attempt does little to sooth, and ends up sounding shallow and petty. Also, the comment by the doctor is an understatement; “rather low” does not even begin to touch the depth of the pain experienced by a mother who lost her child. When a child dies it takes with it immeasurable amounts of hope, love, happiness, and dreams.