The miscarriage: The story I never told.
A miscarriage is serious. For a long time, everything hurt. I couldn’t stand the site of pregnant women. They instantly made me angry. After I wallowed in my anger for a bit, I would be completely consumed by the most depressed feeling in the world. Recollecting on that pain still hurts.
I knew it was going to happen. I could feel it in my spirit. The morning of the miscarriage was very gray and stormy. I remember laying down in bed feeling weak. There was an intense pressure in my lower abdomen. After being diagnosed with a threatened miscarriage just days prior, I was still hopeful that I would still deliver a healthy baby. That hope died later on that morning. The stomach pressure turned into sharp cramps.
I remember I was so scared. I was alone in the privacy of my room. I got the sudden urge to go to the bathroom. To my horror, I passed a small mass in the toilet. After I got out of the bathroom, I immediately called EMS. I was still feeling the sharp pains. The operator told me that I was experiencing contractions. I remember trying to lay on the living room sofa in tears. The operator tried to calm me down as best as she could. All I could think was, “God please don’t take my baby.”
When EMS got to me, they took me straight to the Hospital. On the way there, the female EMS worker tried to calm me down as best as she could. I never cried like that before. I could tell that she felt so bad for me. She got out of “workmode” and tried to talk to me like a big sister even though she really didn’t know what to say.
Hell,what do you say to someone who just experienced what I went through. What makes the situation worst is that I didn’t realize that the mass that I passed was the actual fetus. It was very small. I was only 7 weeks along. I learned the truth when the doctor ordered and ultrasound. There was a sac but no baby inside of it. That’s when everything clicked. It was over. My chance at being a mother to this baby was gone.
I never thought that I would smile again. I’ll be honest and say that I cursed God out a few times. I didn’t understand why he would allow me to go through something like this. How could you give me life and then snatch it away? Not to mention the way that I lost it was very messed up: alone and in a toilet. That memory haunted me for a while. I never slept, and when I did, I would awake in tears from horrible nightmares. I thought that children were supposed to give you a sense of fulfillment.
This experience left me feeling broken and empty. It took a long time for me to get past the anger and depression that consumed my life afterwards. I was so angry because I was hurting, I just wanted the pain to stop. My baby was gone. I know I am no perfect angel but did I truly deserve this? Why did God gave me the gift of carrying life just to snatch it and leave me alone and broken at the end of the day.
I grew to a point where I stopped eating. I started drinking more alcohol. I slowly began to change into a person I did not know. My behavior got a little reckless. I reached a point where I stopped caring about a lot of things outside of writing poetry. At that point of my life, I could have cared less if I lived or died. Deep down, I think I was ready to die. I walked the streets in disbelief. It is crazy what a woman will risk or put herself through when she is spiritually broken.
Time and poetry were the only things that helped me to get over what happened. I remember crying in the shower the evening that it happened. I remember pleading with God and asking for my baby back. I wanted him to work one of those divine miracles like he did for Mary and Moses. I promised to not complain. I would accept the tiredness and painful breasts with a smile as long as I got to have my baby. my mind was messed up. The follow up doctor appointments to remove the rest of the tissues that didn’t expel from my body was extremely hard to get through. I remember bursting into tears a few times at the doctors office. Only God knows how I made it through.
I think back on those days when I was in spiritual turmoil because of my loss. I can’t help but think that I must share what I experienced. There is another woman out there that is just as lost and broken as I was. You begin to heal when you can be honest with yourself and acknowledge that this happened to you. There is life outside of a miscarriage. For a while, simple things may hurt like: television commercials or babies in the grocery store. Just know that it is okay to be angry. However, you can’t allow that anger to completely consume you. I write this post in hopes that I will help another woman that shares the pain of my words.