The Man I Thought I Married
She's Gone
I woke up the next morning, still on the floor. I used most of my strength to get up off the floor and the rest of it to weakly make my way to the bathroom upstairs. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I didn’t know what I expected to see but I was surprised as hell when I saw the damage that was done. I had a black eye and a bruised and swollen left cheek. I kinda expected those but what I didn’t expect was what I saw when I lifted up my shirt. The sight brought painful memories from the night before and tears to my eyes. I had multiple discolored bruises all around my stomach. I just stood there and looked at myself and all the damage that was done to me until it all became too much. Before I knew it, I was hovering over the toilet and vomiting all the pain away. It wasn’t just the physical pain from getting my ass kicked the night before but it was the emotional pain of realizing that my baby was gone. I had lost my child.
He and I didn’t speak much following the incident except for when he said that if I ever told anybody that he’d hit me, he’d kill me and himself. I wasn’t really listening to that crap. When my baby died, a part of me died with them. Nothing he could do would ever surpass the amount of pain I was feeling since I lost my baby.
The following week I had another doctor’s appointment. I was supposed to be finding out the sex of the baby. Of course, he didn’t go with me. He didn’t even offer and I definitely didn’t ask. Two hours after he left the house, without saying a word to me, I got in my car and drove to the OB/GYN’s office.
I sat in my parked car in front of the doctor’s office for a few minutes trying to pull myself together. I tried to prepare myself for what I was going to hear when I walked into that examining room. I even tried to convince myself that everything was okay….that I didn’t lose my baby….that they were still there and waiting for the day that I would bring them into this world. As I got out of the car and walked into the doctor’s office, I tried to keep these thoughts with me. When I signed in and took a seat in the waiting room, I thought about how wonderful it would be when I brought my baby home from the hospital and how it would be watching them grow up and become the person that I always wanted my child to be. When my name was called, I sent up one last prayer that all the negative thoughts I had been having over the past week were wrong.
Once I set foot in the examining room, all the hope I had died. I don’t know how it happened but it just did. Maybe it was the happy smile that was plastered on my doctor’s face or even the sight of the sonogram machine but something triggered the overwhelming feeling of dread that came over me when I thought about the fact that Dr. Meyers was about to look for the heartbeat of something that wasn’t there anymore. I tried to fight the feeling as I prepared for my examination. A tiny speck of hope even emerged again but all my fears were confirmed when Dr. Meyers informed me that I had had a miscarriage. Now, there was denying that my baby girl really was gone.
He and I didn’t speak much following the incident except for when he said that if I ever told anybody that he’d hit me, he’d kill me and himself. I wasn’t really listening to that crap. When my baby died, a part of me died with them. Nothing he could do would ever surpass the amount of pain I was feeling since I lost my baby.
The following week I had another doctor’s appointment. I was supposed to be finding out the sex of the baby. Of course, he didn’t go with me. He didn’t even offer and I definitely didn’t ask. Two hours after he left the house, without saying a word to me, I got in my car and drove to the OB/GYN’s office.
I sat in my parked car in front of the doctor’s office for a few minutes trying to pull myself together. I tried to prepare myself for what I was going to hear when I walked into that examining room. I even tried to convince myself that everything was okay….that I didn’t lose my baby….that they were still there and waiting for the day that I would bring them into this world. As I got out of the car and walked into the doctor’s office, I tried to keep these thoughts with me. When I signed in and took a seat in the waiting room, I thought about how wonderful it would be when I brought my baby home from the hospital and how it would be watching them grow up and become the person that I always wanted my child to be. When my name was called, I sent up one last prayer that all the negative thoughts I had been having over the past week were wrong.
Once I set foot in the examining room, all the hope I had died. I don’t know how it happened but it just did. Maybe it was the happy smile that was plastered on my doctor’s face or even the sight of the sonogram machine but something triggered the overwhelming feeling of dread that came over me when I thought about the fact that Dr. Meyers was about to look for the heartbeat of something that wasn’t there anymore. I tried to fight the feeling as I prepared for my examination. A tiny speck of hope even emerged again but all my fears were confirmed when Dr. Meyers informed me that I had had a miscarriage. Now, there was denying that my baby girl really was gone.