I feared for when that inevitable day would come

Dear Little Sisters,

I feared for when that inevitable day would come. The day that I would be punished by that unseen force for the transgressions of my past. For a while, I thought that I had escaped it. Maybe, somehow, this force decided that the score no longer needed to be settled. But, if I had learned anything so far in my twenty-eight years, it was that my sins would always come back to haunt me. The day of reckoning had come and I was going to be made to suffer.

We were at IKEA trying to get stuff for our new house. AT, his sons and I, walked through the huge industrialized-sized doors and a rush of air hit our faces. I was excited to think about going through the baby section and imagined what things we would buy. It only had been a few weeks since we had found out, but I wanted to dare to hope. Perhaps, the first time was a rare fluke and this time we were ready. I told AT that I really had to pee. So we went through the IKEA maze, following all their crazy signs, until finally, we found the restroom. I sat down to pee and finished quickly. I prided myself on my ability to get in and out of the bathroom at lightning speed, including washing my hands thoroughly, of course. So, when I wiped and I saw the bright red blood on the toilet paper, I knew it wasn't going to be one of those days. I started shakily rolling up a piece of paper and stuck it between my legs. I flushed the toilet with its pink-tinged liquid swirling quickly down the hole. I washed my hands.

AT said, "What took you so long?"

“I’m bleeding,” I whispered to AT so that the boys wouldn’t hear. “I’m going to text my doctor. It’s Sunday but she will tell me what to do.” Go back to the emergency room, I thought.

AT left me at the hospital to go drop the boys with their mother. “I’ll be right back.” So, I waited by myself to see what the verdict was. Remember to say that this has happened before, a year and a half ago. And that you are at risk of another ectopic pregnancy. And that you only have one tube, the right one is gone, with the other baby you lost. Remember to tell them that this was your punishment.

“Poor thing, you’re really trying, huh,” said the emergency room doctor who was trying to unsuccessfully to comfort me. I sat on the emergency room bed, with my legs hanging over the side.

“We can set you up for a D&C right now, in case it turns out to be another ectopic pregnancy. You don’t want to lose that other tube, so young.” I just buried my face in my hands even further and cried even more loudly. I know that they would prefer that I wouldn't risk it, but I couldn't. In some fantasy world, I believed that my baby and I would pull through. That my baby would stay this time. That my baby would not leave me in the darkness alone.

In the end, AT showed up and I decided to go home and give it more time. I went to sleep, that familiar tearful slumber, that ruled my early twenties. I awoke to AT moving around. He gave me a hug and told me that it was okay if I could not have babies. I know he was trying to comfort me but it wasn’t comforting. I did not want to admit what I feared was true: I did not deserve to be a mother. I would never say that to anyone else in the same situation because I wouldn’t believe it about anyone else. But, me? This must be it, the inevitable day. The day where I could not just say it was just a coincidence because this was 2 for 2. Happiness, followed by blood and shame. This was the second time that my body would turn against me because it even knew that I did not deserve to have that type of goodness in my life. We had a sonogram tomorrow with my OB-GYN, a mother of one of my students. She told me that it could still be early and that’s why the baby didn’t show up on the sonogram. She said maybe we could stop the bleeding. I remember thanking her but all that went through my head was the curse.

I wrapped my arms around myself, asking my body for forgiveness for everything I had done to it. Asking my body, if it could do me this one favor, even though I wasn't worthy. I begged, mouthing a silent, "Please." My sleep was heavy yet restless that night. How could it not be? Everything hung in the balance.