I'm humbled by your comment. You certainly know a lot about vulnerable sharing. I revisited your Substack yesterday and honestly, I was at a loss for adequate words on how to respond. I will make my way back there and comment, too. I'm in awe of what you've been through and all you've accomplished through your challenges and joys of mothering your precious special-needs twins - and your older daughter as well.
Thank you for taking time to read and share your short story here. I appreciate you.
I've had a knee and both hips replaced, but I never thought of missing them. I abused them terribly, so they're all probably fine with no longer being a part of me. Now my other knee is complaining. I keep it quiet and secure with a glucosamine/condroiten compound that numbs it for awhile. I don't want to part with this knee. We've been through too much together. And I didn't abuse it nearly as much as the other one ... poor thing. Torquing it a few times in little slips and falls offended it far more than I supposed. So now, I'm careful how I walk on this real knee. In fact, I barely walk at all, which isn't good either. Some mornings, though, I wonder if the darned thing got up in the middle of the night and cavorted around the house without me. It aches like crazy even though I thought it was just lying there in bed right beside me. The little devil.
I think it's completely fine and normal to miss any body part that's been lost along the way due to whatever reason. Breasts are in a category all their own, though. And too often the seriousness of this particular loss is downplayed.
I'm sorry to hear your other knee is "complaining" now. Love your sense of humor about it, though! Thank you so much for adding to this conversation. I appreciate you.
No, you didn't come across as cavalier, so no worries whatsoever. I appreciate you caring enough to ask, though. I'm so glad you found the poem meaningful. Keep me posted on how you're doing.
Such a rich piece of pain and passion, loss and love and loss again. Poetry seems to lend itself most to this cycle. And what is it about poetry, that after reams of prose, is so naked and vulnerable, and yet essential to speaking the language of soul? The scariest part of what is revealed in our poetry is exactly what feeds the birthing of poems in the first place and draws others to it. Your emotional honesty; your willingness to say the quiet part out loud; your trust in the cycles of love and loss as the human story -- all of this and more bring your work into vivid being and for this, I and many others are grateful.
Your encouraging words mean so much. It was surprisingly difficult for me to publish this poem. Other poets, like yourself and Beth, nudged me to do it. So, thank you.
Poetry does expose us, doesn't it? But as you wisely said, "The scariest part of what is revealed in our poetry is exactly what feeds the birthing of poems in the first place and draws others to it."
I love that. And I love the poem you shared - even the title is powerful. Thank you. I appreciate you, my writing friend.
Beautifully expressed Nancy. Yes I miss them too. After the double amputation, the implants felt like 2 baseballs stuck to my chest. And very numb. One implant ruptured (I couldn’t tell) so I finally had DIEP - 2 years ago - and it’s much better, but nothing can replace the originals!
Yes, to everything you mentioned! Like you, I had an implant rupture. (I couldn't tell either.) Like you I had them both removed and chose DIEP flap. Like you, I feel so much better about my reconstructed chest now, but nothing - nothing - can replace the originals. And I miss them.
Thank you for sharing your experience and for understanding exactly where I'm coming from. I appreciate you.
So very true indeed. Grief is so intricately woven into the cancer experience. Grieving our losses - of which there are many kinds - is necessary. And at the same time, our hearts can be filled with gratitude, too. Thank you for reading and taking time to comment, too. I appreciate you.
Thank you for your kind words filled with validation. I very much appreciate you for letting me know this resonated. Have you had a mastectomy, too, then?
Water balloons glued to your chest - that's a good description. I understand about that challenge. Thank you for your additional thoughts. I appreciate you.
This is a powerful piece, Nancy. Your willingness to be so open about the vulnerability of sharing poetry and your honest feelings about your body after a mastectomy. Thank you for giving voice to an experience that I'm sure many can relate to, even in different ways.
Thank you so much for your poem. It’s so important.
Breasts are so precious. They have so much feeling in them and they represent love and the unconditional giving we receive from the Earth and our mothers who are the Earth for us.
I’m really happy that you’re alive and I’m grateful for your poem today because having hit almost 55 my large breasts have grown, (I did not know this happens). I have been resenting them a little bit, but you made me realize that they are good, even on my small frame.
Your comment about my poem means a great deal to me. And yes, breasts are such a unique part of a woman's anatomy encompassing so many different aspects of femininity. It's impossible to put it into proper words even.
I'm happy my poem got you thinking about your own relationship with your breasts. It's okay to feel that little bit of resentment, too, along the gratitude. We can hold more than one feeling at the same time in this case, too.
Thank you for adding to this discussion and for your kind words. I appreciate you.
I am so proud of you for sharing your beautiful, deeply poignant poem. It is not easy to share something so personal as a poem, especially about such a difficult topic. And, yes, there is something about this genre that hits our very core and vulnerability in a way that nothing else does.
I loved your poem. Everything resonated with me. Love this stanza, which made me tear up, along with the repetition of the line "I miss them" throughout the poem:
"I miss them.
I didn’t want to part with them and pretend it didn’t matter.
It did. It does. It always will."
I miss my original breasts, too. I had originally had a series of lumpectomies that deformed the breast that had had the tumor. With my history of cancer, dense breasts, and a series of scares, I decided to go for the DIEP Flap. While I appreciate the look and the natural look of the breasts, they will never be as beautiful as my originals. And to this day, I miss them.
Thank you so very much for your positive response to my poem and for your encouraging others to read it, too. I am very grateful to you and appreciate you!
Thank you for continuing to support and encourage me. It was scary to publish this one. I guess due to the subject matter. But writing poetry of any sort scares me. Not sure why. Writing poetry makes me feel extra vulnerable. I don't get all those extra words to explain myself!
So often, the loss that mastectomy brings is minimized. I know you understand this loss. While I am so much happier after my DIEP flap surgeries, like you, I will always miss my originals. How could we not?
I loved your poem. Thank you for inspiring me to share mine. And thank you for commenting and adding to this discussion. I appreciate you.
The thing about poetry is, like you said, you don't have the extra words to explain yourself. But, and this is what I love about poetry, fewer words means that you can write a particular word or phrase that is more open to interpretation. The more you write poetry, the less scary it will be. Your poem is beautiful.
Yes - open to interpretation - what a good reminder that others might experience a poem quite differently. I love how you always mention that about your paintings. Makes sense with poetry, too. I hadn't thought about it quite like that. Thank you for making such an excellent point.
Sharing something that comes from your heart is worth it. You never know how many people you will touch, or minds you will change. Your poem is your truth. Just like being out in public and showing your face. It is you, it is beautiful, and you don’t need to hide it.
Someone once told me, "Never be afraid to share what's in your heart, Nancy." At the time, I thought it was the best writing advice I'd ever had. I still think that. You are saying the same thing here, so I want you to know how much your kindness and validation mean.
I still feel that fear, though, quite often before pushing the publish button. Maybe it's more hesitation than it is fear. Since you're an artist and a writer, I'm sure you know the feeling, too. I guess this is exactly why art of any kind is so important. We put it (and ourselves) out there despite that hesitation, or whatever you want to call it. Because when that connection between artist and viewer (or reader) is made, it's definitely worth it.
Thank you for adding to this conversation. I appreciate you.
You’re welcome, Nancy. I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you. I get that little hesitation feeling myself before the final push to “out there”, but I never regret it. It’s so important to speak, support others, validate others, and build community wherever there is an opportunity. Thank you for your efforts, and I appreciate your support!
Dear Nancy, I am stirred to tears. Thank you for this vulnerable sharing.
I have one short story about my breasts.
I was lucky to have them on. My babies were born at 1 pound each.
One twin was a strong sucker and able to be fed for two years her mother’s milk
The other was too fragile and weak, but I never gave up. Her son was slow and strenuous.
I wanted to feed her with all my milk. It didn’t happen easy, but she did survive against all odds.
Thank you
Hi Prajna,
I'm humbled by your comment. You certainly know a lot about vulnerable sharing. I revisited your Substack yesterday and honestly, I was at a loss for adequate words on how to respond. I will make my way back there and comment, too. I'm in awe of what you've been through and all you've accomplished through your challenges and joys of mothering your precious special-needs twins - and your older daughter as well.
Thank you for taking time to read and share your short story here. I appreciate you.
I've had a knee and both hips replaced, but I never thought of missing them. I abused them terribly, so they're all probably fine with no longer being a part of me. Now my other knee is complaining. I keep it quiet and secure with a glucosamine/condroiten compound that numbs it for awhile. I don't want to part with this knee. We've been through too much together. And I didn't abuse it nearly as much as the other one ... poor thing. Torquing it a few times in little slips and falls offended it far more than I supposed. So now, I'm careful how I walk on this real knee. In fact, I barely walk at all, which isn't good either. Some mornings, though, I wonder if the darned thing got up in the middle of the night and cavorted around the house without me. It aches like crazy even though I thought it was just lying there in bed right beside me. The little devil.
Hi Sue,
I think it's completely fine and normal to miss any body part that's been lost along the way due to whatever reason. Breasts are in a category all their own, though. And too often the seriousness of this particular loss is downplayed.
I'm sorry to hear your other knee is "complaining" now. Love your sense of humor about it, though! Thank you so much for adding to this conversation. I appreciate you.
I hope what I wrote didn't come across as cavalier about your breasts and your grief for them. Your poem was heart-rending.
Hi Sue,
No, you didn't come across as cavalier, so no worries whatsoever. I appreciate you caring enough to ask, though. I'm so glad you found the poem meaningful. Keep me posted on how you're doing.
Such a rich piece of pain and passion, loss and love and loss again. Poetry seems to lend itself most to this cycle. And what is it about poetry, that after reams of prose, is so naked and vulnerable, and yet essential to speaking the language of soul? The scariest part of what is revealed in our poetry is exactly what feeds the birthing of poems in the first place and draws others to it. Your emotional honesty; your willingness to say the quiet part out loud; your trust in the cycles of love and loss as the human story -- all of this and more bring your work into vivid being and for this, I and many others are grateful.
Guilty
I was the only one
our mother took
leaving everyone else behind
to sweep up broken pieces
many of which
were never found
A silenced heart of an unknowing
too young self
breaks too
and even now
thin shards from the shattering
cut the bottoms of my feet
Hi Stephanie,
Your encouraging words mean so much. It was surprisingly difficult for me to publish this poem. Other poets, like yourself and Beth, nudged me to do it. So, thank you.
Poetry does expose us, doesn't it? But as you wisely said, "The scariest part of what is revealed in our poetry is exactly what feeds the birthing of poems in the first place and draws others to it."
I love that. And I love the poem you shared - even the title is powerful. Thank you. I appreciate you, my writing friend.
I hope you will continue to write poems -- We can cheer each other on as we discover more of our poetic ways. Big hugs.
Thanks for the encouragment. Writing poetry still scares me! Big hugs back.
Beautifully expressed Nancy. Yes I miss them too. After the double amputation, the implants felt like 2 baseballs stuck to my chest. And very numb. One implant ruptured (I couldn’t tell) so I finally had DIEP - 2 years ago - and it’s much better, but nothing can replace the originals!
Hi Susan,
Yes, to everything you mentioned! Like you, I had an implant rupture. (I couldn't tell either.) Like you I had them both removed and chose DIEP flap. Like you, I feel so much better about my reconstructed chest now, but nothing - nothing - can replace the originals. And I miss them.
Thank you for sharing your experience and for understanding exactly where I'm coming from. I appreciate you.
“Grief and gratitude can coexist.” So true!
Hi Eileen,
So very true indeed. Grief is so intricately woven into the cancer experience. Grieving our losses - of which there are many kinds - is necessary. And at the same time, our hearts can be filled with gratitude, too. Thank you for reading and taking time to comment, too. I appreciate you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was never able to find the right words. This is perfect!
Hi Kim,
Thank you for your kind words filled with validation. I very much appreciate you for letting me know this resonated. Have you had a mastectomy, too, then?
Ye. I refer to the result as the water balloons glued to my chest. So challenging to describe to one who has not experienced the surgery.
Hi Kim,
Water balloons glued to your chest - that's a good description. I understand about that challenge. Thank you for your additional thoughts. I appreciate you.
This is a powerful piece, Nancy. Your willingness to be so open about the vulnerability of sharing poetry and your honest feelings about your body after a mastectomy. Thank you for giving voice to an experience that I'm sure many can relate to, even in different ways.
Hi Marie,
It wasn't an easy one to publish, but I'm glad I did. Thank you for your encouraging words. I appreciate you.
Thank you so much for your poem. It’s so important.
Breasts are so precious. They have so much feeling in them and they represent love and the unconditional giving we receive from the Earth and our mothers who are the Earth for us.
I’m really happy that you’re alive and I’m grateful for your poem today because having hit almost 55 my large breasts have grown, (I did not know this happens). I have been resenting them a little bit, but you made me realize that they are good, even on my small frame.
Hi Kate,
Your comment about my poem means a great deal to me. And yes, breasts are such a unique part of a woman's anatomy encompassing so many different aspects of femininity. It's impossible to put it into proper words even.
I'm happy my poem got you thinking about your own relationship with your breasts. It's okay to feel that little bit of resentment, too, along the gratitude. We can hold more than one feeling at the same time in this case, too.
Thank you for adding to this discussion and for your kind words. I appreciate you.
Hi Nancy,
I am so proud of you for sharing your beautiful, deeply poignant poem. It is not easy to share something so personal as a poem, especially about such a difficult topic. And, yes, there is something about this genre that hits our very core and vulnerability in a way that nothing else does.
I loved your poem. Everything resonated with me. Love this stanza, which made me tear up, along with the repetition of the line "I miss them" throughout the poem:
"I miss them.
I didn’t want to part with them and pretend it didn’t matter.
It did. It does. It always will."
I miss my original breasts, too. I had originally had a series of lumpectomies that deformed the breast that had had the tumor. With my history of cancer, dense breasts, and a series of scares, I decided to go for the DIEP Flap. While I appreciate the look and the natural look of the breasts, they will never be as beautiful as my originals. And to this day, I miss them.
Thank you so very much for your positive response to my poem and for your encouraging others to read it, too. I am very grateful to you and appreciate you!
Hi Beth,
Thank you for continuing to support and encourage me. It was scary to publish this one. I guess due to the subject matter. But writing poetry of any sort scares me. Not sure why. Writing poetry makes me feel extra vulnerable. I don't get all those extra words to explain myself!
So often, the loss that mastectomy brings is minimized. I know you understand this loss. While I am so much happier after my DIEP flap surgeries, like you, I will always miss my originals. How could we not?
I loved your poem. Thank you for inspiring me to share mine. And thank you for commenting and adding to this discussion. I appreciate you.
The thing about poetry is, like you said, you don't have the extra words to explain yourself. But, and this is what I love about poetry, fewer words means that you can write a particular word or phrase that is more open to interpretation. The more you write poetry, the less scary it will be. Your poem is beautiful.
Hi Beth,
Yes - open to interpretation - what a good reminder that others might experience a poem quite differently. I love how you always mention that about your paintings. Makes sense with poetry, too. I hadn't thought about it quite like that. Thank you for making such an excellent point.
Oh, Nancy, yes. This. This exactly. 💕
Hi Beth,
Thank you so much for reading and letting me know you get it. I appreciate you.
Sharing something that comes from your heart is worth it. You never know how many people you will touch, or minds you will change. Your poem is your truth. Just like being out in public and showing your face. It is you, it is beautiful, and you don’t need to hide it.
Hi Alene,
Someone once told me, "Never be afraid to share what's in your heart, Nancy." At the time, I thought it was the best writing advice I'd ever had. I still think that. You are saying the same thing here, so I want you to know how much your kindness and validation mean.
I still feel that fear, though, quite often before pushing the publish button. Maybe it's more hesitation than it is fear. Since you're an artist and a writer, I'm sure you know the feeling, too. I guess this is exactly why art of any kind is so important. We put it (and ourselves) out there despite that hesitation, or whatever you want to call it. Because when that connection between artist and viewer (or reader) is made, it's definitely worth it.
Thank you for adding to this conversation. I appreciate you.
You’re welcome, Nancy. I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you. I get that little hesitation feeling myself before the final push to “out there”, but I never regret it. It’s so important to speak, support others, validate others, and build community wherever there is an opportunity. Thank you for your efforts, and I appreciate your support!