Mourning the loss of my child had put me in a dark state of mind, one that I didn’t want to elude from. I could barely make sense of any of it. What had I done to betray my body… my baby? Better yet, what should I have done to prevent this from happening? I had so many unanswered questions that hovered over me like a storm cloud. I kept telling myself that this was all a dream. Tomorrow I would wake up and place my hand on my belly, just knowing that there were something inside. My heart beat fast with excitement… I was becoming a mom. But the deception quickly revealed itself and I knew that my dream had once again crumbled before me.
I was scheduled for surgery two days before my birthday. All I could think about was how the doctor described the procedure: a scraping that would completely ensure that your body has fully miscarried. More tears. More pain. I would be recovering through what would have been a celebration of another day, another year of being me. But that wasn’t important to me anymore. I had to prepare myself for what was to tag alongside the anxiety. I had to completely accept that I wasn’t pregnant anymore and that we would have to try again. But now I couldn’t help but question my own abilities – could my body handle a growing child? Could I handle the voice inside my head telling me that this could all happen not once, but two… three times over again? The uncertainty was persuasive.
As I dressed into my gown I overheard the doctors speak my name. My bed would soon be wheeled into a room of no turning back. The stubble on my legs blended in with the goosebumps that took over my body. I wanted so bad for my boyfriend to hold my hand, even while I was under anesthesia. I needed him. But our kiss goodbye left me with uncontrollable tears and a sob that I could not let go of.
I was overwhelmed by the white of the room reflecting off of the lights that were suspended over me. The cold had a presence that sent a chill down my spine. I watched as the door swung from open to close, allowing more doctors to enter the room. There was no time for me to cry anymore… I had no escape. This was happening whether I was ready or not. I brought myself back to when I first discovered I was pregnant. The happiness that filled my body was something I could hardly explain. The excitement yet nervousness of taking care of someone other than myself. It was so surreal… and now out of reach. As I floated down into reality I was introduced to the doctor who would perform the surgery. He was tall and his hands were as cold as the air in the room. He asked a series of questions and told me what to expect during recovery… a whole bunch of nothing that went through one ear and out of the other.
The gloves slid over the hands of the professionals and my eyes were shut tight.
Time to begin.
“So was this your first child, Courtney?”
Yes… yes it was.
Note – if you have suffered a loss, it is important to remember that it wasn’t your fault. Nor you or your body did anything wrong. May you grow from your experiences, and move on to happy ones ✨