The news that we lost the baby was mindblowing to say the least. Sadness and grief immediately hit Huzb. I was more in a state of shock. It wasn't happening.
The doctor said we'll get a second opinion just in case, and they immediately took me to the room with the super dopplar ultrasound connected to millions of plasma TV screens as I prepared to be molested by the vag wand once again.
Huzb watched the screen intently, and I just stared at the ceiling. After about twenty minutes and thousands of pictures taken of my vag from every possible angle, the news was sadly confirmed.
We were given our options, told to go home and grieve, and escorted out the back door.
Rage hit me on the way home.
Anger and hysterical crying hit me at home.
The absolute worst feeling is knowing that you have a dead body inside of you. The feeling of being a graveyard was unbearable.
Instantly, all of my pregnancy symptoms were gone. I just wanted the baby out of me, but at the same time I didn't. I wanted to hold on to it.
The next day I was admitted into the hospital for a D&C. As my luck would have it as I was registering, here comes a new mom with her bundle of joy being wheeled out of the hospital. It killed me.
I wanted to die. I would have given anything for our baby to be alive and for my heart to have quit beating. It just didn't make sense.
I could have won an Oscar for my pre and post surgery experience. I remember being prepped and crying my eyes out. The nurses would ask me what procedure I was having, and I would respond with, "I don't even want to say."
Two of the nurses consoled me and shared with me their stories of miscarriage. And before I knew it, I was out like a light and waking up in a complete fog.
The hysterics began again as they wheeled me back into my room. My baby was gone. How could I ever heal from this?