Wanda
Mom to Baby M
Miscarried: February 15, 2015, Expected Due Date: September 10, 2015
Boston, Massachusetts
I managed to take a shower as the blood dripped out of my body and spiraled down the drain. It will take two hours for a cab, the voice on the other end of the phone stated. Admittedly, I should have called for an ambulance, especially since we were in the middle of another New England blizzard with zero driving visibility. In my mind though, that would have made the experience that much more of an emergency. This was not an emergency. At least, I didn’t want it to be—even though, intellectually I knew that I was losing the life inside of me with every passing minute.
I trudged through the six or so inches of snow on the ground towards my car. Incoming call. I answer. What’s wrong? The voice asked. I’m bleeding. I think I’m losing the baby. I tell my friend through the tears streaming down my face. I’ll meet you at the hospital, she said.
I don’t know how, but I managed to drive myself to the emergency room. For two miles, the only people I shared the road with were the snowplow drivers. I’m almost 11 weeks pregnant and I’m bleeding, was all that I could manage to say to the receptionist before I broke down sobbing and wiping away my tears with my scarf.
I was immediately brought into a room where I was given a gown, poked with an IV needle, and asked what seemed to be 100 questions in a matter of minutes. Yes, I called my midwife. No, I did not do anything out of the ordinary today.
No, the baby’s father is not involved. Yes, I have health insurance. Yes, I called my brother and friend who will be meeting me here. No, I have not had an ultrasound; it is scheduled for next week. As I answered the questions, a short dark-haired doctor approached the bedside. She tried to assure me that although I was bleeding heavily it did not mean that I was losing my baby. She tried to comfort me, but I knew what was happening. I knew that my body had betrayed me in the most unimaginable way.
