Grieving

-Zoila Carrizales-Hazlip

I’m pregnant

Life is following my plan

I’m pregnant

I follow the plan

Guidelines

I do everything right

I’m pregnant…

Perfect

Perfect, until that moment when it isn’t—right

Hitting hard—faster than I can catch my breath

The very thing I promised to protect you from

came crashing into our world.

The wound I swore I would guard you from

was the first that you received.

Pain—

I failed you, Mija

I failed in trust

Trusting people that walked around with flippant attitudes

and notions of superiority—God complexes.

I failed in trusting people.

People who marked the clock,

who turned our moments into borrowed time

People who believe that their degrees and titles

absolve them of any responsibility

for the lives they alter.

The lives they take—

I failed you… Mija

I thought the danger lived outside

Outside looking in with their twisted smiles waiting for you to come within reach.

I failed you… Mija

I thought I’d have time to prepare you for that danger

In strangers—

I failed you… Mija

That danger turned into a white coat and a blur of scrubs

I failed…

You, Mija—The deepest part of me

The very essence of me

Nine months, I carried you.

I spoke love into your being.

For 28 agonizing days

They sent me home every night.

For 28 days,

I watched you fight

Surrounded by tubes, wires, and machines that separated us.

For 28 days,

I held you through sterile acrylic boxes,

read you stories,

sang you songs.

I convinced myself that I believed in God.

Not a God but—God

That if the stories were true,

then I prayed for them to be true for you.

Every night that I was sent home

Every night that I couldn’t hold you

Every night that I logged onto a camera just to see you sleep

Every night…

Every night—I lived with an ache in my soul,

I cried my body empty.

Suffocated from the weight of being torn from you

You, who had been a part of me for so long

Mi—Hija

My heart that lived inside of me with no barrier

Mi—Corazon

Days turned to weeks

And finally, we were home…together.

And just as I played with the idea of being able to breathe,

remembering how to…

We were surrounded by those beeping rooms,

Back in the sanitized drenched smelling, clinical space

Regression…

Time—             In the midst

Time—             of the chaos

Time—             I forgot.

I forgot because I love you wholly

I love you completely

You are my normal

Even if you’re not the world’s ‘typical’

Time—not responding to treatments.

Time—living on borrowed time.

Time—we are running out of time.

But you are alive

So, I choose to forget—Time.

The truth resurfaced

3-5 years, reduced to months, DNR, comfort measures, hospice.

October 16th 2025

3 years old

Time—there is no more time.

The research, support groups, countless journals, second opinions, tests, treatments, therapies, surgeries, organization—and…

You, Mija, my brave one, you’ve endured it all.

Every moment of pain because I failed.

What’s left?

Love

Patience

Kindness

Sweet hugs and peaceful naps

On good days it’s easy to forget the heaviness.

On bad days I force myself to forget.

In tough weeks denial creeps in, convincing.

In hard months I cling to the hope of more moments together.

Time, is a relentless measure,

hinting at the inevitable,

while dragging out the moments I cherish.

Time, will collect you in a heartbeat or last breath,

leaving me fractured,

empty, without the best part of me that lives in you.

You are light.

You are breath.

You are life.

You are love.

You are my measured time.

You, Mija

Mi Hija

Mi corazón y aliento

© 2026 Zoila Carrizales-Hazlip.

This poem may not be reproduced, excerpted, or redistributed without written permission.