Loss

A part of me died on April 16. It was a swift death. Faster than I anticipated. But it hurt.

It hurt like a chunk of my beating heart was ripped out of my body; like having someone pull the rug from under your feet and landing on a bed of tiny thumbtacks. It felt like what pain would feel when something you’ve desired for so long is a centimeter from your grasp but is unsuspectedly snatched by a mischievous devil out to torment you.

I lost our first baby and I can’t help but blame myself. My mind is a jumble of what if’s, I wish’s and could be’s. What if I stayed put that day and didn’t do the goddamn laundry? I wish I listened to my body when every time I bent my lower back would ache. I could be enjoying my pregnancy right now if only I allowed myself a moment of weakness. But no, my stubbornness and inability to be perceived as needy punished me and my husband.

I remember the pain like it was yesterday because nothing I’ve experienced ever hurt that way before. All I know is that I was half bent and struggling to walk but still managed to stumble to the bathroom. Somehow I knew that my body was rejecting my baby but I refused to let it enter my mind. Even when I nearly punched the concrete wall to keep myself from screaming. But at least I allowed myself to feel it and I let the tears flow. And just as easy as my tears freefell down my cheeks, the pain was gone. And then I knew. I just knew.

I don’t know how I managed to endure the pain and still be able to walk to the hospital to go see my doctor. I’ve never prayed so hard for everything to be fine. But I knew in the deepest pit of my heart that there was nothing left to be done but to put it in black and white.

Spontaneous abortion. That’s what the doctor wrote and that’s all my short-lived pregnancy will ever be.

Today, it doesn’t hurt as much. But I can’t say that I’m not envious of seeing other pregnant moms because the truth is I’ve never felt envy quite like this before. And I guess more than envy, I feel guilty and sorry for myself. How could my body fail me and theirs didn’t? Is there something wrong with me? Will it happen again?

I don’t know if I’m supposed to hurt this much because I didn’t even get to see our little bird. And I guess that’s what hurts the more. That this emptiness is felt just by us and our immediate family. How can we mourn a death before life? But no, we have the right to grieve and feel pain. You don’t need physical proof of love. You just love. And love, we did. Albeit shortly, quickly.

I know we’ll be hurting for a long time. When we remember what could have been. But for now, I’m okay. We’re okay.