it was heaven while i had you

tw: pregnancy loss, grief

this piece was written in july 2024 and published in Volume X of The Bread Loaf Journal. it contains discussions of pregnancy loss and grief, which may be triggering to some readers—so keep your heart safe and do you, boo.

“Harbingers of Hope” by Lucy Campbell

do you know that elephants bury their dead?

scientists have observed a number of different ways
elephants seem to react to the remains of their loved ones.

some touch,
smell,
taste the remains.

others even carry the body to a less populated area
and cover them with mud
or leaves
or branches,
just so they have an undisturbed place to rest.

i’ve always loved how humans and elephants share
these kinds of meaning through
ritual—

how loss affects all of us,
regardless of species.

although,
sometimes,
i rather prefer elephant rituals to human ones.

once you know how elephants interact with their dead,
a casket just seems so
impersonal—
clinical, even.

then again,
all of these rituals assume that there’s a body
to mourn—
that there’s a physical entity
to be treated with care
and respect.

but when something dies inside of you…
it can be hard to treat yourself with the same
reverence.

you know,
it’s believed that when a mother elephant loses her baby,
the other elephants stand in a circle around her,
allowing her all the time she needs to grieve
and mourn.

without false platitudes like,
“sometimes, this happens” or
“it’s more common than you think,”
she can just cry
and cry
and rage against
all that is holy
without being made to feel like her grief is small
or inconsequent.

still,
some will say it’s just a natural part of her cycle.
and maybe it is.

but have you ever considered—
was it cramps,
or contradictions?

is it just another period,
or is it a birth?

maybe it’s silly to get caught up in semantics.

but when a birthing place becomes a burial site,
you tend to prefer words that carry the weight
of what you’re truly feeling.

i’ve been thinking about heaven a lot lately—
about whether it’s a place,
or a feeling,
or both.

and how it’s always described as this
final destination,
the ultimate resting place where at last
you end up.

being pregnant was
the closest i came
to feeling like
heaven had a place for me at all,

because it wasn’t a place i was looking forward to experiencing.
i was already in it.

//

so,
if i never get to see that light again,
and if we never have the chance to properly meet,
please know that…

it was heaven while i had you.

and i’d do it all over again,
just the same.

— misao

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