mom interrupted.

i hate people.

fucking assholes.

I decided.

DECISION : I’m probably not going to post many pictures anymore. Just my feelings.

Today was horrible. Woke up at 2 A.M., due to pain that awoke me from dreamy-land. I started to bleed horribly. Horribly. I woke up my mom with my crying and grunts of pain.

My mother called my GYN, (because my first OB appointment was on March 13th,) and my Doctor, who was on-call, suggested we go to Crouse. He also complained that we woke him up, and bitched at my mother and I because we never saved the tissue.

Mom and I angrily got ready. We left for the hospital, arriving at 3 A.M.

I was seen quickly. Got four vials of blood taken, and the nurse attempted to hook me up to an IV. Apparently my vein “moved.”

I never was never aware that my vascular bits could dance. Any-who, moving on. 

I then was moved immediately into a room. But then came along the time I was dreading ; the time I was given a cervical exam.

Now, when something traumatic occurs in my life, I usually re-live EVERYTHING that has traumatized me. Wonderful, right? Well, before the examination took place, the nurse decided to crack a vulgar joke. I was nervous and didn’t want to be examined, and then she assured me that the speculum was smaller than a penis. The vulgar part? Her cleverly-added phrase, “It’s not like you haven’t had one before.”

Wow. I’m twenty-years old and getting preached to about sex. Cool.

Well, that’s when I freaked.

As the examination began, I started screaming bloody murder. The nurses and doctor did NOT know what to do with me. My mother, meaning well, screamed at the nurses to get me a transquilizer. God, I love my mother.

The doctor agreed, while the nurse asked if this was because of a bad medical experience. I screamed, sobbing, “NO IT’S JUST THAT I’VE BEEN FUCKING RAPED ALL MY LIFE.”

At the end of the examination, they asked if I was receiving help - to which I said yes to. (I am, and therapy is good.)

The doctor soon came in with my medicine to calm me down. Also, she gave me ginger ale, which was fucking fantastic. I never appreciated a soft drink that much.

Then, after a few hours of sleeping, I was wheeled down to the ultrasound room. Within ten minutes, it was basically confirmed: my beloved child was gone.

I was wheeled back to the room, this time I was silently weeping throughout the halls. I sat in my hospital bed, just looking at the brightly-lit ceiling. Thinking of heaven. Wishing I could have went, too.

The main doctor came in, just to say my miscarriage was “completed,” meaning I had no tissue left. 

I left within 45 minutes. I didn’t know what to think, how to feel, nothing.

I felt dead, quite frankly.

After calling my fiance within the hospital, it was decided I’d come to his house A.S.A.P. (I was at my mother’s house just for that night.) After a quick visit to McDonalds (I couldn’t eat in the hospital,) I pulled up to his driveway. He came out, and I kissed my mom good-bye saying many thanks. I walked up to him, and we hugged and hugged. 

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I noticed that I’m starting to be grateful for what I have, and I guess I can be grateful for being learning appreciation of the little things; how the sunlight falls on the lampshades, and how black birds seem so crisp against pre-Spring skies.

I may be having the worst year yet, but I’ll figure this shit out.

(Rest in Peace, Baby H…)

Well…

I miscarried. So much for sanity.

Possible miscarriage.

I find out tomorrow.

If I did miscarry, I will probably go to a mental institution. I want my baby more than anything.