I have a sensitive history with miscarriage because I’ve had an abortion before. There are a lot of differences between situations and yet there I was, experiencing loss again. I had promised myself, I would never be there again. But this loss, was not my choice. My body had failed me. I eventually had to have an abortion to remove what wouldn’t leave on it’s own. My body didn’t recognize the loss and most likely wouldn’t. I tried waiting a few days to give my body a chance to let go naturally. This is what truly destroyed me. More than what I ever thought. I walked around with our dead child inside of me for days. Had full days of work. I sent emails, filled up my coffee, sat in meetings, showered, slept and repeated all with our dead baby in me. I felt dead. In my eyes, THAT was better than the surgery, I was desperately trying to avoid.
Andre & I wanted to have a baby. We were growing, we were excited for the new addition. We loved each other so much, we fucking made a baby. A baby of true love. We got REALLY excited and then we got wildly silent. I became empty after the procedure.
In how I felt physically but also between Andre and I. The silence between us was so loud. We had so much to say, but we couldn’t find the right words. I struggled with saying anything. I had used all my energy staying afloat at work. I couldn’t do it at home as well. My throat felt like it was in a constant throw up situation. Imagine when you take a nasty ass shot. Your throat gets tight and you try to swallow your spit or whatever is in your mouth, attempting to keep whatever is in your stomach where it’s at. I felt this way constantly. I would try to say something, my throat would tighten, eyes watered. Every time Andre would try to fill the silence, I could see how much he was hurting. His face would start changing. He does this thing with his mouth when he feels vulnerable. His jaw clenches and his eyes filled with sadness. I couldn’t take that face.
It was the same face our doctor had when he was looking for the heartbeat and couldn’t find it. It was the face Andre had when I woke up from the anesthesia. It was the face my mother, father and sister gave me when they saw me for the first time a few weeks after. I even found that face, in my best friends voice when we talked on the phone. I found the face in the texts and phone calls our closest friends sent. I started looking at my feet and avoiding eye contact with everyone because I couldn’t handle that face anymore. I stopped responding to texts to avoid that face in my inbox.
Through the silence Andre and I found a different language. We communicated with long hugs, encouraging glances, shoulder, cheek and every so often lip kisses and we actually spooned all night. He held me so close some nights, I felt like he was holding me so tight just to keep our hearts intact. As if, he was protecting our hearts from falling on the floor and getting mushed, again. We needed each other and neither one of us, was in the place to really be the others rock. So we wilted together.
We wilted for a long time and after awhile it just stopped. We watched my nipples to go back to normal. I waited for my stomach to go back down. I wasn’t big, but my body had definitely started changing and I had gained a pretty hefty amount of weight afterwards. I eventually got back to myself and a full year later my period even got back to normal! I don’t know how to end this, but I didn’t want to end it on “We wilted together,” because we did so much more after that.