Part of My Past

This is about one of the most difficult experiences I've been through.  I strive to be a positive person, and try not to focus on the negative aspects of life, but this is an important part of me, something that has made me stronger… and I wanted to share it with you.  Thanks for your friendship, prayers and support: I am okay now.   I hope you all find the strength within yourselves to overcome any adversity that might come your way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrived at the hospital alone.  It was October 26^th, it was cloudy and cold.  I felt strong walking through the spacious lobby of the Goshen hospital.  Across the hall, there was a big black piano which was playing recorded music.  I stopped to admire it for a few seconds hoping to distract myself of my cruel reality.  I spoke with an older woman for a brief moment hoping to receive information about where I should go.  The woman told me to take the elevator to the second floor; she also remarked that the elevator would not go past the second floor, and that's where I had to go.  How ironic, even the damn elevator was being restricted somehow; there were more floors above, yet, it would never go past the second floor.  I associated it to myself, on how my wings were gone and I couldn't fly.  I continued my journey until I got to a counter where a smiling lady chatted with some women.  I couldn't think straight, I was upset.  There were some nurses walking by, and one of them had a big pregnant belly; she might have been about seven months pregnant or so.  I held my tears and desire to run away by looking at some brochures; I couldn't read what they were about though.  The lady finally talked to me; she was chubby and appeared distracted.  Another nurse came by to direct me; she guided me to a room where I was to take my clothes off, get a robe on, put away my belongings in a plastic bag, to then answer a series of repetitive questions to a couple other people.  The nurses were nice and helpful.  This was the first time I was at a hospital as the "patient."  That place was cold, but the warm blankets given to me by the nursed somewhat helped.  I tried to distract myself watching TV, but I was frequently interrupted by other nurses asking me the same questions.  The doctor who would perform the procedure came by to talk to me.  She wasn't specific about what she was going to do, but to be honest, I didn't really want to hear it.  It was a D&C (dilation and curettage, or non-elective abortion).

Moments after I got the IV going, the anesthesiologist came by to explain what was going to happen.  The nurse warned me that I had to take my contact lenses off, which bothered me since my eye sight is very bad.  I tried to relax on the bed and take a deep breath while thinking about other things.  They took me to a different room; it was colder.  Although I was covered in blankets, I shivered.  It was a big, spacious place and I noticed the big surgical lights of the surgery room.   I was very nervous, still shivering.  They helped me get on the other bed; I couldn't see their faces (without my contacts on).  I recognized one of the voices; the anesthesiologist, who told me he would give me something through the IV to put me to sleep.  By then, I already had an oxygen mask on.  I started to feel something burning all along my arm, but I was completely relaxed.  I thought about telling them about it, but the words didn't come out… and I fell asleep.

I woke up approximately an hour later on a moving hospital bed.  The first thing I remember when waking up, is the sound of the nurse's voice and my deep anguish that, this time, I didn't fight to hold in.  I started crying not worried about my surroundings, or the big noise I was causing.  I cried like a child, without control, without repression.  Although I could feel the physical pain in my abdomen, it wasn't the cause of my crying.  The emotional pain was what was tearing up.  A nurse held my hand and told me everything would be okay.  It was not enough to comfort me, and all I said is that I wanted my baby.  She said "I know you do."  I kept crying for a while longer, I couldn't speak a word.  I could feel the warm tears coming down my face while they wiped them off; I made no effort to restrain them.  I felt defeated.  I felt empty.  I felt as if I had failed.  Like if life had slapped me on the face to take away my pride.   They were asking each other if any family member was there with me.  Nobody was there.  That moment, I wish they were there… but I had previously asked them not to.  I never thought I was going to break down like this.  I thought that by that time, he was going to be there, waiting for me… but he wasn't.  I asked the nurses and they checked and told me that there was no one waiting out there.  I'm not sure how much time elapsed… I still wasn't completely there.  I kept thinking "what if."  I saw that pregnant nurse again and felt worse.  I thought of how nice it would have been if my baby had lived.  God had other plans.  The tiny thing had stopped growing at eight weeks without me knowing it.  The doctor found that out at my ten-week visit.  He failed to find its heartbeat, and then found out dead through an ultrasound.  It had died, and my body was still holding it, protecting it.  That happened a few days before.  I wasn't sure how to handle the whole thing; it killed me that I had lost it… but somehow I felt a relief inside of me; a relief to know that he wouldn't come to this world to suffer the cruel reality of his imperfect parents.

Azucena arrived later.  She was wearing scrubs, like a nurse, straight from work.  She helped me get up and get changed.  I knew later she cancelled a date with her boyfriend to come see me.  It was a relief to have my sister there with me, in those difficult moments.  I felt as if I was coming out of the hole.  She looked beautiful, smiley, and by the way she was treating me… I could feel her love.  I felt blessed.

It has been a few weeks since all of that happened and I'm standing up.  I feel much better.  I have accepted God's will and I understand that this has not been a failure.  This was an opportunity for me; a lesson of love which I can take the best out of.  Everything really does happen for a reason, and I'm not alone.  I have been blessed with great people in my family who love me and never abandon me; I can't ask for more.  I feel thankful for each experience since each of them makes me a stronger person.  I am not perfect, or even close to being perfect… but I know I'm better than I was.

To all my friends, I want to thank you for your support and your company.  I don't mean to make you feel sorry for me; I only want to share this part of my life.  I hope this helps some of you to look at your own lives and realize the many blessings you enjoy.  Thank you for your kinds words and your support.