Today started off like any other Sunday. I slept in, ate a little something, and headed to my sorority meeting. While driving I began to feel a little queasy, but that wasn't uncommon considering my mental circumstance. I had taken on the challenge of not thinking of him today. It was going quite well. I had only cried twice.
As I sat through the meeting, my stomach pain became more intense. So once the meeting was over, I drove myself home. I figured this either meant Mother Nature was coming early or my body was finally feeling the wrath of my broken heart. Just as a precaution, I prepared myself for the former, took 2 Advil, and laid down.
I curled up in a ball and quickly drifted off to sleep. I woke up approximately an hour later stunned, because my sweats were drenched in blood. I went to the bathroom and attempted to clean myself up, but the pain came back with a vengeance. I washed up as best I could, grabbed my purse, keys, and a trash bag for my car seat and drove myself to urgent care.
Thank God it was only around the corner. I staggered into the emergency room and just as I was about to collapse an orderly caught me and broke my fall.
I don't remember the specifics, but there were people talking, the room was moving, and my stomach was throbbing. I had no clue what was going on. I think I asked a nurse, but I don't think she answered me. All I remember is everything going dark and then silence.
I woke up sometime later in a hospital bed wearing one of their peek-a-boo gowns with an IV in my arm. I still felt nauseous, but I also felt extreme soreness, and I was groggy as hell. Just before I could hit the call button, a beautiful Hispanic nurse walked in. She saw me fidgeting and said, "Good you're awake, we were beginning to worry." I swallowed hard, but my mouth was dry so it took a moment to get the words out. "Worry?" I quizzed. "What is wrong with me?"
Looking flustered, the nurse hesitantly replied, "The doctor will be making his rounds soon, you can talk to him about that." She continued to check my vitals. Just as she finished documenting my blood pressure, I touched her hand and barely above a whisper I uttered, "Please."
My eyes must have communicated how desperate I was for answers because her expression softened and I could tell she was trying to choose her words wisely before answering, "The baby didn't make it." I didn't say a word, because they escaped me. "You had a miscarriage." she said trying to help me make sense of her previous statement.
After what seemed like a long pause I said, "That can't be possible. I had a cycle after the last time I had sex." I shook my head in disbelief. "Some women have a menstrual cycle their entire pregnancy. It's rare, but not impossible." she said softly while searching my face for understanding.
"Oh my God!" was all I could manage as I placed my hands over my mouth. Millions of thoughts, questions, and memories flooded my mind. But the reoccurring question was "Should I call him?" And that indeed was a conundrum. He and I hadn't spoken in so long, I didn't want him to feel like this was a ploy to get him back. More importantly, I didn't want him hanging around because he felt sorry for me either.
Nevertheless, I was alone, and I wanted him there; more out of friendship than anything else. I desperately needed a friend right now, and he was the ideal candidate, because this was his loss too. Our loss.
Even though neither of us was ready for a child, we had created one. My imagination began to run wild. I envisioned a beautiful caramel complexioned little girl with sandy brown hair and a smile that would light up a room. Or a hazel eyed little boy who was the spitting image of his father.
Realizing this would never be, hurt more than I would have thought possible. I should have been relieved, but I wasn't. And I cried silently. What is so wrong with me that even a child who shared half of my DNA didn't want me either?
I hadn't noticed, but the nurse had reappeared, or maybe she had never left. I couldn't be sure, but she walked over and handed me 2 pills. "The white one is for the physical pain, and the light blue one is for the emotional...stress." she finished, again choosing each word carefully. I took both without saying anything. "Are you alright?" she asked as if she already knew the answer.
"When can I go home?" I asked dryly. "In a few hours." she said cheerfully. "We want to monitor you a bit more." she concluded. I rolled over and faced away from her.
"Ma'am is there anyone we can call?" she asked the loaded question genuinely.
"No!" I snapped unintentionally. "Ok. Anything else?" she said lightly, obviously not taking offense to my previous answer. "Turn off the lights on your way out." my voice quivered.
Darkness
The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl
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