You would have been my best friend. I didn’t get to name you. I didn’t get to hold you. But you were real. I took 6 pregnancy test from the dollar store to be sure. All positive. I kept one.
I remember hearing your heartbeat for the first time during my first doctor’s visit. That’s when it became real that I was your mommy. That was summer 2011, I was 21, turning 22 that year. The doctor told me the day that I was going to meet you, February 22, 2012, your birthday.
We never got that far, though. I was a senior in college that August. I had already told my best friends and my sorority sisters that I was pregnant so they were pretty protective of me when I got back to school that August. During stroll practice, they would make sure I wasn’t going too hard so I didn’t harm you. I mean, you weren’t even that big…so I had to make sure you were secured and protected.
After the union party during Labor Day Weekend, I asked my line sister, Mariah to go to the restroom with me. I was newly pregnant but I always had to pee. We went to the bathroom and I did my business. When I wiped, I saw blood spots. I’m overly dramatic so I panicked and told Mariah that I thought I should go to the ER to make sure you were okay.
We arrived at the ER and waited about an hour. They took us to the back, I sat on the table, Mariah sat in the chair, and the doctor drew my blood. Then we waited. Riah and I talked about the union party and were laughing about how the Kappas be showing out when they stroll. The doctor came back in and said, “Honey, are you sure you’re pregnant?” I said, “Yes.” The doctor said, “I’m asking because your blood levels aren’t at the place that a woman who is pregnant should be.” I blanked out for a second after I heard her say something like “possibility of a miscarriage.” I cried. Cried so hard in that room. Riah tried to console me as she’s also crying. The doctor told me to schedule an emergency appointment with my OBGYN for the next morning.
That night was a blur. I just remember going back to my residence hall room (I was an RA) I called my best friend Dominique and told her that I needed her to go to the OBGYN with me in the morning. She agreed with no hesitation (I think she maybe missed one of her classes to go with me but I can’t recall).
We get there. We get to the back. They lay me on the table. Added the gel to my pelvis area. Used that thing to swirl around the gel and that shows a blurred video of you on a screen. There you were. You were still there so I couldn’t have had a miscarriage. The doctor said he couldn’t hear your heart beating. I told him try again to hear. Nothing. Your little heart wasn’t pounding as fast as the speed of light like it was back in July. Tears. The doctor measured you on the screen. He asked me how many weeks I was… “I just turned 16 weeks.” He said that you were only measuring 12 weeks. So, I didn’t kill you from strolling too hard at the union party…you died on your own. You sat inside me….lifeless for 4 weeks. 4. I remember crying harder than the night before at the ER.
The doctor prescribed me some pills to take so you could expel yourself out of me. I decided that I needed to go home to be with my parents as I took the pills. I didn’t wanna go through a miscarriage in the bathroom of my residence hall room…So I get to my parents crib and take the medication. I waited. I talked on the phone with my aunt, watched some tv, and laid down. 8 hours later I had to go pee really bad and as soon as I sat on the toilet, it happened. My miscarriage began and I called out as loud as I could for my parents and they came rushing to me.
I’ve never felt a pain like that before. Never seen so much blood and vomit and my parents stayed with me in and outside of that bathroom for about another 8 hours. Praying. Crying. My boyfriend at the time (your dad) came for some of it but…yeah.
Your 6th birthday is approaching, February 22, 2018. I drew a picture of a little girl on February 22, 2016 and named it “4 years”. I drew a girl because I wanted you to be a girl. Your dad wanted you to be a boy. But in reality, I didn’t care either way. I wanted you. I wanted you to be my baby. I wanted to be your mommy. I had a dream that you were a chunky chocolate little boy, though. 🙂
I think about you often. Wonder what you and God are doing up there in Heaven. Wondering if there’s a spot for me with you and Him. I think God took you from me because he knew I wasn’t done being selfish with my life. I had more life that he wanted me to see. But ever since you started growing inside me, I think about what my life would have been with you. I miss you. I wanted to know you.
Here’s a little about me: I’m all over the place, baby. I’m still trying to find my way but making stops on the path for exploration. I hope you’re proud of me. When I have another child, I’m going to tell them all about you and all about the dreams I had for you. I’ll be able to love them because you allowed me to love you first.
You’re my healing.