by Taryn Steele
I can’t sleep. My stomach won’t let me. My brain won’t let me. I have a bad feeling.
Turning on my side I look at my alarm clock and it reads 3:04 a.m.
This is going to be a long, ass day. Even if I fall asleep now it still won’t be enough.
Somehow and someway I manage to get my ass out of bed, in to the shower and get to work. Dropping my purse and keys on the floor by my chair I put my head in my hands and let out a sigh.
“Please tell me that look of exhaustion is from a night of passion with that fine ass husband of yours.” Marianne gleefully asks from her desk.
“I wish. Upset stomach kept me up all night.”
“Sorry kiddo.”
By the time my morning meetings are over my stomach still hurts and I can’t shake this bad feeling I have that it’s more than just a freak period. I check my phone and see that Jameson and Lily have both texted me asking how I’m feeling. I decide to hold off on replying and call my gynecologist Dr. Miron to explain what’s been going on to see if they have any explanation that can ease this thing that is happening. After about thirty minutes of back and forth with the nurse and her consulting with my doctor they tell me they want me to come in and can see me at 12:30 p.m. I don’t wait to ask if it’s okay because (1) I know it will be, and (2) I don’t really give a shit if it is or not, I’m going anyway.
I text Jameson and Lily back to let them know my doctor wants to see me. Lily replies back quickly wishing me luck and to keep her posted. Jameson replies back with just a simple “ok.” I’m kind of fucking pissed about that. What is he doing right now that is more important, or too distracting from his wife to just type two letters? I slam my phone down on my desk giving Marianne a tiny startle.
“Sorry.” I mumble under my breath.
“It’s okay. Just breathe. Try to distract yourself with work until it’s time to leave. It will help, even if it’s just a little.”
I smile and nod in silence. I’m so lucky to share an office with her. I can’t imagine being in this room with anyone else.
The next two hours fly by. Marianne was right. I distracted myself so well replying to emails, placing orders and scheduling meetings I feel like I accomplished an entire days’ worth of work.
I toss my phone in my purse, grab my keys and get on the road. I turn on the radio to distract myself for the thirty minute drive. There is absolute crap on the radio and I’m too lazy to dig out a cd. Why do radio DJ’s find is necessary to talk and talk and talk some more instead of playing songs? I wish that throughout the day they would talk to the other DJ’s coming in so they didn’t play the same ten songs over and over again either. I need to invest in one of these Ipod things everyone is talking about.
My frustration at the radio ended up helping pass the time for my drive, and I find myself sitting in a parking spot afraid to get out. What’s the worst that could happen? Dr. Miron will say, “Hillary, you have got to stop being so stressed. Take time for yourself and do some yoga. You’re screwing up your internal body clock.” I shake my head to clear my thoughts, get out and walk towards the office.
I’ve been here dozens of times but this time as the automatic glass doors slide open the normally wide hallway feels smaller, the short ten foot walk to the elevator straight ahead feels longer, the ride up to the third floor feels like it takes forever.
As I step out of the elevator Dr. Miron’s office is in front of me. I take a deep breath, walk in, announce my arrival, fill out the necessary paperwork and tap my foot as I wait for my turn to be called in.
Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds later, not that I was counting, a nurse opens the door and announces my name. I follow her down the short hallway and around the corner to the dreaded section of the office where they ask you the normal questions:
What was the first day of your last period?Are you experiencing any painful urination?Are you experiencing any painful cramping?Are you taking any medications?
Then this bitch has the nerve to tell me to get on the scale. I don’t want to see that! I stand there with my arms crossed with a look that screams, ain’t happening honey.
“We can skip this part if you want.” She tells me.
“I have enough going on today. I don’t need any more issues. Just put the same number that was on my last appointment.”
She hands me a cup and points to the bathroom to provide a urine sample. I know the drill. She doesn’t need to explain any further.
I think waiting in the examination room for Dr. Miron is more painstaking than the drive over here. Is that why they don’t put clocks in exam rooms? They don’t want you to realize how long you actually waited for them. Yes, ma’am we realize your appointment was at 11:00 a.m. but we have a process. I realize now it is almost 2:00 p.m. but we’re here now. Umm, no. Just as I’m about to hop off the table to check my phone for the time there’s a knock at the door and Dr. Miron swings it open and walks in.
“Hillary, thank you for being able to come in. I spoke with the nurse when you called explaining what was going on.”
“Thank you for seeing me.” I reply nervously.
“Hillary, with the symptoms you are experiencing this is probably going to be an uncomfortable exam but I promise to be as gentle and quick as possible. Put your feet in the stir-ups and scooch down the table for me.”
I do as she says. I lay back, legs apart and take a deep breath. Rule number one for girls who have never had a pelvic exam: don’t hold your breath, don’t stress otherwise it will be a lot more painful for you. JUST BREATHE
“Okay Hillary, you can sit up now,” Dr. Miron tells me and I do as she says. “Hillary, after going over the symptoms you have been experiencing, my exam here and the tests we ran from the urine sample you provided I regret to inform you that experienced a miscarriage.”
I can’t speak. My chest is tight. I feel as if my throat has closed up. I’m looking all around the room but for what? There are no answers written on the wall.
“Hillary. I’m so sorry. I can see this is a shock so let me explain a bit further what has happened and if you have any questions just stop me.”
Still not able to speak, I nod my head.
“What happened to you is what we call an early chemical pregnancy. This is when the egg is fertilized but never implants in the uterus. The fertilized egg signals the body to begin making hCG, which is a pregnancy hormone, which can result in an early positive pregnancy test - even three to four days before a women’s first missed period. Unfortunately because the egg fails to develop and implant properly, no clinical evidence, such as a gestational sac or placenta, would be found on an ultrasound exam. Since this is the case for you, thankfully we do not have to do a D&C procedure.”
Placing her hand on my knee, I’m still feeling lost.
“Hillary, you haven’t said anything. Do you have any questions? Did you come here alone? I’m not sure I want you driving home or back to work after this, wherever you decide to go.”
“No, I don’t have any questions right now.” I say barely audibly.
“Okay, well please know if you do later you can call me here anytime. I can send you home with some pamphlets on early chemical pregnancies - “
“Sure.” I say interrupting her and hopping off of the exam table, just wanting to escape out of this room.
“Alright then, again Hillary, I’m sorry to give you bad news. I’m sure this is not what you were expecting to hear.”
“No, I wasn’t. Right now I just want to go home. Can I go?”
With pity written all over her face, she nods and opens the exam room door.
I take my paperwork from her, check out with the kind old nurse at the front desk and escape to my car as quickly as possible.
I drop my purse on the passenger seat, put my seat belt on, start the car, turn the radio on but before I can put the car in to drive to pull away the song lyrics hit my ears and I freeze. I recognize the song from a few years ago. It’s Ben Folds Five son
g Brick. I know the song is about an abortion but knowing that it is still the loss of a child it hits me. I drop my hands in my lap and sob.
I’m confused. I’m hurt. I’m scared. I’m shocked.
Did I do something wrong? Is this my fault? Did I want a baby right now? We haven’t even talked about it. I can’t believe this happened.
I shut the radio off. Ben Folds Five is just making me more upset right now. Opening my console I grab a packet of travel tissues, wipe my tears away, blow my nose and check my face in the mirror. I put the car in drive to make my way home. Jameson will be home by now. I have roughly twenty minutes to figure out how to tell him we lost our first child.
I CAN FEEL THE BLAZING sun burning on my face. I pull the covers over my head. My eyes hurt from crying all night. Jameson held me all night in his arms. I never realized how much I wanted a baby until I lost one. I heard the phone ringing a lot last night. He said it was Lily and Karolyn checking in on me. They wanted to come over but he told them to wait until I was up for company. I’ll call them later. This feeling of loss isn’t like any other. We’ve all been to a wake or a funeral of an elderly family member, like a grandparent who was well in to their nineties. That’s a wonderful long life that was expected to end at some point. This life, this life that was inside of me was far from expected. This isn’t something you can be consoled for, where you can with an elderly grandparent that you can prepare for it. I wasn’t prepared for this at all.
Jameson asked me dozens of times last night what he can say or do for me. My answer was the same every time, “nothing.” There is no fix for this. There is no band-aid big enough to cover this wound.
I can hear Jameson downstairs. I smell coffee. I turn to look at the clock on the nightstand. It reads 10:44 a.m. Seconds later I hear the doorbell. Ugh. I am in no mood for people right now. Who the hell could it be? I slowly step out of bed and tip toe to the top of the stair case to see if I can hear who it is.
“Where’s Hillary?” I hear the recognizable female voice say.
“She’s in bed. What are you doing here?” Jameson asks.
“I was in the area.”
Was in the area my ass. She always says that.
“So a miscarriage, huh?” I hear her say.
“Yeah. It’s really not a good time right now ma.”
“Well I figured she was probably making it all about her right now so I wanted to check on my son. Are you sure she didn’t do something to it? She can be selfish at times.”
“You know what ma, I really think you should go.”
“Well I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Who knows. Maybe it was meant to be because the baby would have been mentally challenged or something.”
“Enough already! I’ve heard enough! It’s never enough for you. I need to get back upstairs to my wife, and it’s time for you to go. Thank you for stopping by.”
As much as my anger is fueling through my body at every fucked up word that came out of Marcie’s mouth I am so filled with love at the way Jameson stood up for me. For us.
I climb back in to bed, reach over to the nightstand for the tv remote control and attempt to find a movie to watch. I’ve had enough horror and drama in my life lately, I could use some laughs. I think Jameson could too. Scrolling through the TV Guide channel I see Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. I start chuckling to myself. Jameson loves Jay and Silent Bob. This movie is so stupid it’s funny. I feel like this is just what we could use right now, stupid laughs.
“You’re smiling,” Jameson says catching me off guard.
“I didn’t hear you coming up the stairs.”
“So if you did you wouldn’t have been smiling right now?” He asks with a laugh.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I was smiling because I found a movie to watch.” I tell him pointing to the television with the movie highlighted.
“Nice,” he says with a big smile.
“We have twenty-five minutes before it starts. I was going to take a shower and maybe make some popcorn.”
“I think that is a great idea babe.”
The sparkle in his eyes and the big grin on his face tells me all I need to know. He’s hoping I’m moving on from this loss. I’m not. I’m just trying to get through the day.
IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS since my miscarriage. Jameson and I have to go out for a work dinner in an hour. Our bookkeeper Jill is leaving the company. Her husband was promoted and they are moving to Florida, so we are having a big good-bye dinner. The last thing I want is to be around people but I think Jameson is looking forward to getting out of the house. He’s been my rock, by my side every day. I had no idea I would feel this way finding out I had a miscarriage. I wasn’t even thinking about kids yet. Now it’s all I can think about.
I know it’s the best thing for me to go tonight, to “face the music” so to speak. Marianne has been checking in with me quite often. She asked me if she was questioned about me do I want people to know. I told her yes, simply because I felt like it would be easier that way then having to tell the story over and over again. That would be far too painful.
Putting on the finishing touches of make-up, I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t recognize this girl. She looks tired, worn out, drained. Her skin appears pale. Her brown hair hangs flat down her back, with no body to it. This person staring back at me looks like the old Hillary. The Hillary that was with Robert. The Hillary that would let her family treat her like crap. She looks lifeless.
“Ready to go?” Jameson asks startling me, and snapping me out of my stare down with my reflection.
“Yup, just need to put on some lip gloss.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath and silently tell myself you can do this.
We’re not far from the Northampton Brewery where we’re meeting everyone. I’m getting nervous. I keep wiping my hands on my jeans because they won’t stop sweating. Jameson can tell too. He keeps switching his hands on the steering wheel to rub my thigh. His silent sign to let me know he cares.
A few short minutes later and we are pulling in the parking lot. I bend down to grab my purse to dig out my lip gloss to reapply before going inside. Jameson backs in to a spot, puts it in park and pretends to check his hair just to add a little humor to the situation in his own way. I love how he can always seem to find a way to make me laugh.
Hand in hand walking in to the popular bar and grille, we see and easily hear our group, even over the large crowd of people. Marianne spots me and with the look of pity on her face I did not want to see. She walks towards me with her arms outreached.
“I’m not going to say anything other than I’m glad you’re here,” she says in my ear.
I pull back from her hug, and step aside so she can hug Jameson. I choose to be brave and walk ahead of them in search of Jill before I forget the main reason for coming here tonight. It doesn’t take me long to find her. She’s the tall, dark haired beauty with long curls down her back. She’s impossible to miss in her tight knit white top and skin-tight, black leather skirt that stops just above her knees, showing off her toned calves and apple red stripper heels. Jill might have a good ten, heck even fifteen years on me but she is a seriously smoking hot chick. If I wasn’t so in to guys, and happily married I would explore lesbianism with her for sure.
Just as I’m about to tap Jill on the shoulder I hear a blood, curdling cry … from a baby. I whip my head to the right where I hear it come from, and there she is. I honestly did not think she would be here, and certainly not with her baby. I’m staring right at Denise, a co-worker in the design department who has been out on maternity leave for almost three months now. I know she’s not one to miss a party but I didn’t think she would bring her baby to a bar either. I momentarily relive that scene from the movie Sweet Home Alabama. It brings the tiniest grin to my face but it quickly fads when Denise catches me staring at her. She waves at me to come over, but I can’t. I can’t be near her or her sweet baby. I chicken out and dash for the ladies room. I’m pus
hing through people left and right in the crowded bar. My airway feels constricted and I feel like I might pass out. Storming my way through the foyer and rounding the corner to the bathroom I push the door open with all of my might. I say a silent prayer when I see that I’m alone. I grip the counter, bow my head and squeeze my eyes shut. I take multiple deep breaths, trying to control myself. Just when I think I’m about to crack the door swings open, immediately followed with erupting fits of laughter. I look up in the mirror to see who it is behind me and it’s Jill.
“Hillary! You came!”
“I couldn’t let you leave without saying good-bye,” I tell her as I turn around to hug her.
She stumbles as I hug her, and she begins giggling. Yup, she’s drunk.
“Hillary, you have got to try this drink the bartender made me. He said he calls it Pompelmo. This is my third one. It’s so good, it has orange vodka in it.”
“Jill, have you eaten anything since you got here?”
“Not yet but I’m about to order some food. Come sit with me and have some dinner.”
Before I can say NO, I WANT TO GO HOME, she grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bathroom, pushing through the crowd of the bar and back to our work posse. With Jill’s hand still firmly grasped on mine I am frantically searching the room for Jameson but I don’t see him anywhere. A few feet away I see Marianne and we make eye contact. She tips her head to the left and my eyes follow to where she’s tipping her head. I see Jameson at the entrance talking to Denise. He’s holding the baby. My heart stops.
Jameson and I have always had a good sense of each other’s presence. He’s feeling that now because as I’m unable to breathe watching him hold Denise’s baby he turns to me. He’s so happy holding the baby. My heart was broken for days, now it is completely shattered. I turn back around to Jill and she hands me a shot glass. I scrunch my eyebrows at her. She knows it’s my way of asking what it is.