ESSAY: By Saturday

this is an essay I wrote and submitted to my
favorite literary magazine THE SUN. and
don't know if they'll accept it but thought I'd
share it here.

SATURDAY NIGHT

By Saturday, the bleeding hadn't stopped and the cramping had become more intense. Only two days before, my midwife told me that there was nothing to worry about, that even though she could not hear a heartbeat at nine weeks, it was not cause for alarm. She blamed it on my uterus, saying it was tilted back, away from the monitor. I believed her.

By now, G. and I were on the road, exploring towns, contemplating our next move. By lunchtime, I could barely walk, shuffling like I was a thousand years old and ready to crumble into pieces on the ground. By late afternoon, I quietly suggested that G. take me to the hospital.

At the next town, we pulled into the emergency room parking lot and made our way slowly inside, the setting sun glinting gold off the automatic doors as they opened with a low hiss. We were brought into an examination room, and before I knew it, a needle with a tube attached was being forced into my hand.

"Talk to me," I said to G. but he just looked at me. "Talk to me. How come when I need you to talk, you don't say a word?" I turned to the nurse. "This is a guy who talks to everyone about everything. I always joke that he could have a meaningful conversation with a doorknob. And now look at him."

My eyes pleaded with his, desperately begging to hear his voice to distract me from the needles, but he was silent.

Fluids were pumped into me, blood drawn out. Then a doctor examined me as I lay back, whimpering, trying not to cry out. He held forceps in his hand and in an instant, pulled something from me.

"This is part of the baby, do you want to see it?" he asked, holding something up to G. who stared numbly. This is part of the baby. Did he really just say that?

A few hours later, we left the hospital and drove to a nearby hotel. We ordered room service and ate dinner in front of the television, like any typical Saturday night.

Comments

[Isabel]

I hope it gets published. and thank you for sharing. I remember the evening when I miscarried our last baby in the bathroom of a sushi restaurant. Somehow, I was glad it was over, at least the physical pain was gone, and my heart could go on being numb without being reminded. XO, Isabel

[Karen]

This is unbelievably raw and deeply moving to me. I cannot BELIEVE what that bloody insane, dimwitted, insensitive doctor said to you!!!!! A man. Yep, no doubt only a man would be able to say such a heinous thing....I am sooooo sorry for your loss(es). I've only just begun to read your blog just 5 mins ago and, yes, I will continue....