It started three years ago... I was dating this bad boy type... The type all girls are attracted to in one way or another. We'll name him Cody.
Cody and I had a very hot and cold relationship for months. From March to October we were either inseparable or not speaking. Depending on the day and amount of alcohol in our systems.
One day in late October, after a particularly rough 'break up', Cody and I were fooling around... this fooling around led to my eventual pregnancy.
Once Cody found out I was pregnant he told me he would have no part in it and promptly disappeared from my life, despite our many mutual friends. He would check in every now and then, telling me abortion was the only option. I was steadfast in my decision though, and moved in with my mother.
I was alright for the first few weeks, battling the usual symptoms of tiredness and slight nausea.
Then, one day, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The cramps, the bleeding, the sheer terror and pain.
I'd had a miscarriage.
The doctor had told me to expect it. I had some pretty severe nutrition issues (anemia and malnourishment). I had fought these my whole life, and he put me as high risk pretty early on.
Fast forward to years later... I'm having random crying fits and getting angry at nothing. I was always known as the "happy girl", so what was happening to me?
Finally I went to the doctor to find out it was postpartum depression. Apparently even being pregnant for the eight weeks I was, I was able to develop it. The hormones hadn't left my system and I was dealing with them without knowing.
A prescription for Prozac later and I was off on new adventures, feeling slightly more like my "old self".
Several months later, after dating a guy I wasn't really into because I felt like I needed to be in a relationship, the familiar second pink line showed up on my pregnancy test.
I told him.. we made plans to move in together. My heart and head were both telling me to back out. To run as fast as I could in the opposite direction. But I smiled and signed the lease and feigned interest while shopping at Ikea. Moving day comes.. I'm packing my first box and I freeze. I can't move in with him.
I go to the doctor.. find out I'm incredibly high risk again.
The doctor implies that I should consider abortion, for my own safety.
The father of the baby... We'll name him Brad... is fearful for mine and the baby's safety.. smothering me even more.
I panic even more.
I tell Brad I can't move in with him... that I'm freaking out and I'm sorry.
I don't return his calls for days... so in a fury I tell him I had a miscarriage and to leave me alone to grieve. Really I just can't be around him. Morning sickness has taken me over and I can hardly walk 10 feet without getting sick.
I go to the doctor alone now...
He still carefully implies the best idea may be termination.
Everyone thinks I've had a miscarriage.
I have to hide my nausea at work... as Brad and I work together.
I have to hide my doctor's visits with excuses of sick family members.
I am considering my doctor's advice.
I can hardly get out of bed these days.
I don't need lectures on pro life or pro choice.
I just needed to talk.