Non Pregnant
It was a relief when it happened in the end.
Even though it happened in the toilets at our local Asda supermarket.
Well, it happened in the checkout queue, but I had chocolate biscuits and hand-cooked crisps sitting on the conveyor belt, and I wasn't about to lose them.
And the scene I will describe sounds horrific and will probably make you sad, but I was floating in some different plane, detached and vaguely intrigued.
I had assumed this moment would represent the height of my grief. That's been happening with spooky consistency. I am unable to predict my reactions. I thought I would be fine; I haven't been. I thought I would cry when Felix heard the news; I didn't. I thought I would cry the most when it finally came out, but in fact I calmly washed it off, tried to examine it, tried to make it look like something, but could see nothing but a hand. A small, squashed, webbed hand.
So I flushed it down the toilet.
The placenta was rather beautiful. Like a perfect pebble, or a Werther's Original made of jelly.
I've been unexpectedly depressed today. I woke up this morning miserable. I had that torpor you get with low mood. Walking in a shuffle. Standing and staring at nothing in Asda. Staying in the same seat, gazing at the same digital TV channel, until twenty-five past healthy.
But when I walked out of that toilet, I had a spring in my step. It's over. I don't have to go into hospital. It's gone.
Of course now I'm bleeding everywhere and everything hurts and I'm off my face on every painkilling substance I can get my hands on, but hey. I'm on the other side.
I'm on my way out.
___
Even though it happened in the toilets at our local Asda supermarket.
Well, it happened in the checkout queue, but I had chocolate biscuits and hand-cooked crisps sitting on the conveyor belt, and I wasn't about to lose them.
And the scene I will describe sounds horrific and will probably make you sad, but I was floating in some different plane, detached and vaguely intrigued.
I had assumed this moment would represent the height of my grief. That's been happening with spooky consistency. I am unable to predict my reactions. I thought I would be fine; I haven't been. I thought I would cry when Felix heard the news; I didn't. I thought I would cry the most when it finally came out, but in fact I calmly washed it off, tried to examine it, tried to make it look like something, but could see nothing but a hand. A small, squashed, webbed hand.
So I flushed it down the toilet.
The placenta was rather beautiful. Like a perfect pebble, or a Werther's Original made of jelly.
I've been unexpectedly depressed today. I woke up this morning miserable. I had that torpor you get with low mood. Walking in a shuffle. Standing and staring at nothing in Asda. Staying in the same seat, gazing at the same digital TV channel, until twenty-five past healthy.
But when I walked out of that toilet, I had a spring in my step. It's over. I don't have to go into hospital. It's gone.
Of course now I'm bleeding everywhere and everything hurts and I'm off my face on every painkilling substance I can get my hands on, but hey. I'm on the other side.
I'm on my way out.
___
Labels: Babies, Cheese Sandwich, Miscarriage
4 Comments:
I am so sorry for your loss. I'm one of your readers who never comments, but who loves your blog and checks back every day, and I was heartbroken when I read what happened. I'm wishing for good things for you.
It sounds absolutely heartbreaking. Look after yourself, take it easy, do whatever you need to do.
Pintadoguy, I'm very touched that this has drawn you out of lurkerdom.
I'm running out of ways to say thank you, so I'll just say it, to you and to a nonny moose. Thank you.
You're a braver woman than I - mine came out when I was on the toilet, and I screamed as it happened. And could I bring myself to flush?
No, I could not.
Still, you must be feeling some relief that you can now start to heal...
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