One day you wake up and realize that time makes some decisions for you. Decisions you thought you had plenty of time to make. Today I was shopping for clothes for Samuel's first birthday, and I was overcome with a longing I often try to suppress when confronted with children's clothes and playthings. But most of all, I was inundated with a sadness that I hope to never feel again.
Thirteen years ago, to the day, I had a miscarriage.
I was never the kind of girl who needed a boyfriend. And thirteen years ago, I didn't have a boyfriend. I did, however, have a friend - with benefits, if you will. This guy and I gravitated towards one another anytime we were both single. We played this game on and off for over 10 years. I was on birth control at the time, and we never had sex without a condom - not one single time. But one night, the pill and a condom weren't enough. I had no idea until seven weeks later. Why would I? We were always safe. I have been wary of the effectiveness of birth control ever since.
I was living in my aunt's garage apartment, and I had a date that night. I went over to my aunt's house, and she was making hamburgers. The smell of the cooking beef made me instantly nauseous. However, I didn't have much time to process the sickness because my date got there to pick me up, and we left. I vaguely remember the events of the night because I was consumed with thoughts of my missed period - the missed period I hadn't even noticed was missing until I tried to understand the nausea. My poor date seemed very confused at my inattention and ultimate insistence that we cut the night short. Once he dropped me off at home, I got into my car and went to buy a pregnancy test. Now that I think about it, I don't recall ever speaking to that guy again after that night.
Per the directions on the box and perhaps slightly to avoid knowing for certain, I waited until morning to take the test. There was no need to wait the 2-4 minutes the test indicated would be required. The test instantly showed that I was pregnant. I immediately rushed to the store to get another test only to get the same result. A friend called in a favor and got me in to see her doctor who would also confirm that I was pregnant. The remaining hours of that day are a teary blur, but the following day is crystal clear.
Day two of knowing I was pregnant began just as any other. I ate breakfast and went to work. While at work, I started feeling pains in my stomach and went to the restroom where I discovered that I was bleeding excessively. I left work and drove myself to the hospital where I was diagnosed as having a miscarriage. The doctor said that 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, it wasn't my fault, it was just my body's way of rejecting what wasn't meant to be, etc. He also said that if I'd waited another day, I might have just thought it was my period and never known I was having a miscarriage - as this is quite common. The doctor left and the hospital chaplain came in and sat with me. I had nothing to say to him. What could I say when I didn't even know how to feel? When the doctor came back into the room, he said that I had two options: I could have a D&C so they could remove what was left of the pregnancy, or I could let nature run its course and allow the pregnancy to expel itself from my body. I opted for the latter.
For 9 days, I endured the pain and knowledge of losing a baby I didn't even know if I wanted. That experience, whether I realized it or not, has shaped many of the decisions I've made since. I know that now. That experience most certainly steered the direction I took with my education and career. In the hours that I sat and dealt with the miscarriage, I also dealt with the reality that I was ill-equipped to be a mother. Forget the fact that I was not in a serious relationship with the father, I was also in a dead end job with no hope for advancement. I needed to re-evaluate all of my priorities. The changes that came were swift and meaningful. And all the while, I told myself that I would not ever have a baby. I didn't need that in my life. I think I convinced myself that I didn't want to have a baby because I was scared to go through that loss again. So I chose having a career instead. I chose fostering or adopting instead. I chose to be afraid. I'm afraid to be a mother like my mother - a mother who told me that she had me because she needed someone to love her. I'm also afraid of not having enough money to care for a child and provide him or her with opportunities I never had. But even through all the doubt and fear, I never questioned my willingness to love. Although I don't give it freely or often, I love people with every ounce of my heart and being. Any child would be lucky to have me as a mother. I have decided that I won't ever have a child born of my body, but that doesn't mean that I won't ever be a mother figure to some child who needs me. I know that I will, and I can't wait to meet him or her - maybe them - one day.
No comments:
Post a Comment