no longer hold back the tears from cascading down my face. Jesika wastes no time being right by my side as soon as she sees that I'm awake. She's hunches over the bed in an instant, pulling my head to her chest. Besides her joining me in my tear fest, she doesn't speak. She knows more than anyone that words only go so far, and they don't help you move on. Everyone deals with pain and loss in their own way; Jesika and I seem to handle it very similarly. We don't like to talk about it or dwell on it; we'd rather just hold it all in and let out the pain in privacy. Maybe we’re copping out by dealing with it that way. But as long as you're able to keep moving forward, that's all that should matter, right?
“What happened Jes? Why am I here? Well, besides the obvious,” I say as I look down towards my now hollow feeling womb.
“You don’t remember what happened?” she asks as she wipes the last stray tears from her face. “We were hoping you’d be able to tell us. No one knows. One of your coworkers found you at the bottom of the stairs and you were unconscious. They think you might have been pushed.” She shakes her head. “The doctor said with your concussion that it was very likely that you could have temporary memory loss.” I know she must have been scared being on the receiving end of that call. Jesika is the one person I consider family so she is my emergency contact. It’s not like my parents could give a rats shit about my well-being. As soon as I was of age it was as if they were silently chanting ‘ don’t let the door hit ya on the way out.’ I’ve always known where I was and wasn’t wanted.
“Well, I don’t remember fucking shit. The only thing I remember is there being a closed sign on the elevator. That’s the only reason I’d ever take the stairs.” I sigh heavily. I’m pissed that I don’t know what happened. It’s not like I’m fucking clumsy enough to fall down a flight of stairs. I mean, who does that shit? Not me. But dammit, I can’t remember. I pray it will come to me. “How long have I been here?” I glance around the room looking for evidence of the date, the time…something.
“You’ve been here for two days.”
“Two days?” I shriek.
“Well, yeah. You’ve been out of it Mal. You’re very lucky that you didn’t break any bones.” She gives me a weak smile.
I cry out, “A broken bone I could have lived with. This—” I point to where my baby girl used to be. “I can’t live with the fact that she’s gone. A broken bone would have healed, but this emptiness that I now feel, will never heal. NEVER.” I shout, “She’s gone Jesika…and it’s all my fucking fault!”
There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I say, and the door opens. It’s Dr. Gregory. She gives me a weak smile as she makes her way to me.
“How are you feeling Mallory?” she asks as she pulls up a chair on the other side of my bed.
“How do you think I feel?” I bite out at her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t really know how to handle all of this.”
“It’s understandable. Do you remember what happened?” I just shake my head. I don’t want to verbally announce again that I can’t remember shit. “Well, that can be a typical side effect with a concussion. We went ahead and preformed a D & C due to your spontaneous abortion. We didn’t want to chance any type of infection while waiting for the fetus to pass naturally. I have a list of things to keep an eye on during the next two to six weeks, and I also prescribed you an antibiotic as well as some ibuprofen. Cramping is going to be inevitable and the medication help with it. I’d like to recommend a grief counselor for you to talk about the feelings you may have or that may come about later.” I just nod at her. She places her hand on top of mine and says, “I’m truly sorry about your loss, Mallory.”
I don’t say anything. Instead I just let the tears continue their journey down my face.
Jesika carries my
“What happened Jes? Why am I here? Well, besides the obvious,” I say as I look down towards my now hollow feeling womb.
“You don’t remember what happened?” she asks as she wipes the last stray tears from her face. “We were hoping you’d be able to tell us. No one knows. One of your coworkers found you at the bottom of the stairs and you were unconscious. They think you might have been pushed.” She shakes her head. “The doctor said with your concussion that it was very likely that you could have temporary memory loss.” I know she must have been scared being on the receiving end of that call. Jesika is the one person I consider family so she is my emergency contact. It’s not like my parents could give a rats shit about my well-being. As soon as I was of age it was as if they were silently chanting ‘ don’t let the door hit ya on the way out.’ I’ve always known where I was and wasn’t wanted.
“Well, I don’t remember fucking shit. The only thing I remember is there being a closed sign on the elevator. That’s the only reason I’d ever take the stairs.” I sigh heavily. I’m pissed that I don’t know what happened. It’s not like I’m fucking clumsy enough to fall down a flight of stairs. I mean, who does that shit? Not me. But dammit, I can’t remember. I pray it will come to me. “How long have I been here?” I glance around the room looking for evidence of the date, the time…something.
“You’ve been here for two days.”
“Two days?” I shriek.
“Well, yeah. You’ve been out of it Mal. You’re very lucky that you didn’t break any bones.” She gives me a weak smile.
I cry out, “A broken bone I could have lived with. This—” I point to where my baby girl used to be. “I can’t live with the fact that she’s gone. A broken bone would have healed, but this emptiness that I now feel, will never heal. NEVER.” I shout, “She’s gone Jesika…and it’s all my fucking fault!”
There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I say, and the door opens. It’s Dr. Gregory. She gives me a weak smile as she makes her way to me.
“How are you feeling Mallory?” she asks as she pulls up a chair on the other side of my bed.
“How do you think I feel?” I bite out at her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t really know how to handle all of this.”
“It’s understandable. Do you remember what happened?” I just shake my head. I don’t want to verbally announce again that I can’t remember shit. “Well, that can be a typical side effect with a concussion. We went ahead and preformed a D & C due to your spontaneous abortion. We didn’t want to chance any type of infection while waiting for the fetus to pass naturally. I have a list of things to keep an eye on during the next two to six weeks, and I also prescribed you an antibiotic as well as some ibuprofen. Cramping is going to be inevitable and the medication help with it. I’d like to recommend a grief counselor for you to talk about the feelings you may have or that may come about later.” I just nod at her. She places her hand on top of mine and says, “I’m truly sorry about your loss, Mallory.”
I don’t say anything. Instead I just let the tears continue their journey down my face.
Jesika carries my
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