There was one problem. I could only be discharged if I had someone drive me home. The past few days I stayed in a hotel room, avoiding the outside world. The thought of home sent me into a depression. I couldn’t go home because he would surely be there. Then I thought of Jeremy. I wanted tell him everything, but I was afraid he would call him. I didn’t even attempt it. Who could I have called? Where could I’ve gone? I didn’t have any other friends, and the people that I was close with were all his family.
Then my mother popped in my head. When I called her, she didn’t recognize my voice. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to recognize my own voice either. It was raspy and unintelligible from the yelling, screaming, and crying I’d done the past few days: yelling at him after finding out what he’s kept from me, screaming from the top of lungs for feeling betrayed and neglected, and crying from the loss—the loss of our love, the loss of the trust, and the loss of our child. At that moment, I wished I was under again away from my thoughts. My whole life had caved in, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to recover from this.
Tears ran down the side of my temples as I lay there and wondered how something so perfect could completely turn into one huge disaster. I knew he had the right to know about our baby, but I also knew I wasn’t ready to face him. Knowing that, I couldn’t go home just then. I took my mother’s offer and stayed with her for a while. It was the only place I knew he wouldn’t find me. At one point his arms were where I felt safe; then I was running to away from him to feel safe.
“Ms. Sullivan … oh I’m sorry. I could return …” Lost in my own sorrow, I didn’t hear Dr. Lee enter.
I managed to bring myself to sit. “No, it’s fine.” Before I could use my fingers to wipe my own tears, Dr. Lee handed me a tissue. The gesture for some unexplained reason brought fresh tears to my eyes. Lowering my head so he couldn’t see, I wiped the soft tissue against the moisture on my eyelids.
Pulling a chair beside my bed, he took a seat and opened a folder he held. “Ms. Sullivan, the procedure went very well; we were able to fully clean the cervix. There was no scarring or tissue damage. As discussed earlier, it was best to have the D&C, since only half the fetus passed. There will be bleeding and slight cramping that will occur for up to two weeks. I will prescribe you an antibiotic to prevent an infection and ibuprofen for any pain or discomfort. Here is a list of do’s and don’ts of what to avoid within the next two weeks. Do you have any questions?” he asked as I took the sheet of paper from his hand. I shook my head, and he stood.
“Okay, your mother is waiting for you. I’ll write up your discharge paperwork, and you’re free to go. If you feel abnormal pain or are bleeding excessively, you should contact me immediately. Also, I’ll need to see you in two weeks to follow-up … and Mia, I’m very sorry.” Nodding my head again because that’s all I could do, I watched as he turned and walked out the door.
The nurse returned a few moments shortly after Dr. Lee left. She handed me a cup of ice water, and I gulped it, almost choking on the cold that was soothing my dry throat. She also gave me a bag with clothes that my mother brought for me. The bag contained jeans, a blue t-shirt, and flip-flops. The jeans and shirt were a little loose, but the flip-flops fit perfectly. When I was finished dressing, the nurse returned with a wheelchair. She wheeled me through the halls, and I kept my head lowered the entire ride.
Before the procedure, my mother was able to visit me. We talked for only fifteen minutes before I was taken to the prep room. We cried about the miscarriage together. She asked about him—if I wanted her to call him. I told her we were no longer together, and she didn’t ask any questions after that. I guess she didn’t want to seem too pushy. Maybe she felt she needed to earn the privilege of my confiding in her.
No matter how close our relationship develops, I would never disclose everything. There were things between him and me that were too personal and confidential that would always be just between the two of us.
The nurse locked the wheelchair in place once we exited the building and entered into the pick-up lot of the hospital. My mother was already up front in her old beat-up Toyota Camry with the passenger door opened. She rushed to my side, scooping her arm through mine. We walked to her car, and I got in. Closing the door, she thanked the nurse and took her place behind the wheel.
Shifting to place her seatbelt on, she quickly glanced at me. She sighed and leaned the side of her temple against the headrest. Reaching out her fingers, she tugged a piece of hair behind my ear. “Are you hungry?” she whispered.
The softness of her tone forced tears to spring my eyes. I shook my head; food was the last thing I wanted or needed. Shifting away from her, I stared out the passenger window. The rest of the ride was in silence.
When we finally reached her tiny two-bedroom apartment, I just wanted to lie down and fall asleep again. When we entered her place, she hurried around to grab fresh towels and blankets. I stood in the living room; well it was the living room, dining room, and kitchen all-in-one. With my arms hugging my chest, I admired how she took a small place and made it welcoming and warm.
I wasn’t sure how long I would stay. As much as I liked her place, it wasn’t home. Though when I thought of home my first thought wasn’t the place I shared with Jeremy. It was his place, and my eyes burned as fresh tears began to form once again. How much could one person cry, not just here and there, I mean really cry for several hours straight? I had a feeling I’d spend the next few weeks crying, and the thought seemed exhausting.
Sara entered the small room and guided me to where I would be staying. The room could possibly be the size of my walk-in closet. It only fit a futon and a dresser. I watched as she pulled the metal frame, transforming the sofa into a full-sized bed, making the already tiny room smaller. Placing the blankets and pillows she held on top of the bed, she glanced over at me and shrugged. “I’m sorry…I know it’s not the best place to sleep…” Shaking my head, I walked over and hugged her as tightly as I could. She returned the embrace.
“It’s great, thank you … for everything Sara. I appreciate your letting me stay here awhile.” I whispered.
Pushing away, she held me by the shoulders. “Of course, Mia, it’s the least I could do. I’m glad you’re here … well not under these circumstances … get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” Leaning in, she pressed her lips against my forehead. I’m not sure why that small motion brought him to mind. It was a gesture he always used, and when Sara closed the door behind her, I sank into the futon.