Please don't take me in that room, please, please don't take me in that room. "Teggan Teggan B" the nurse called, emphasising an 'egg' sound instead of the accurate 'tea'. In my apprehensive state I couldn't find the energy required to correct her. Or maybe I didn't care because I knew she was taking me in that room. That room. The same room where I hideously miscarried my baby girl. The same room where my blood decorated the carpet.
"Distract yourself Tegan", my heart cried, "don't look at the floor". "It's too soon, don't make yourself enviasge that ghastly moment." But I couldn't stop myself. Pregnancy hormones still coursing through my system allowed my emotions to get the better of me. And there it was, my baby, albeit reduced to an ugly stain on the dull grey floor.
The recent bombarent of harrowing anguish, which has trampled my optimism and buoyant spirit has also inspired rumination in my analytical mind. I guess it's my hearts feeble attempt to rationalise, to question why I had to go through all of this.
Two months ago I was juggling upwards of three appointments per week, alongside deteriating energy reserves, thanks to the hormonal cocktail I was drowning in. But now, there's nothing. All symptoms abated, leaving no obvious traces besides the attainment of an unattractive pouch like belly. Physically, I'm beginning to feel fine. There's no pain tearing away at my insides, no more nausea. Yet mentally, I'm beyond tender. While I know that fatigue, pain and time constraints are certainly no excuse for a celebratory feast. For me, they made the uphill journey to babydom feel worthwhile, authentic, real. It was my reality, one I'd chosen to rapidly devour.
Sadly, reality altered its recipe, offering up nothing more than naivety free, hard to stomach slices of pie. It's scary because I know it will poison my guts and make me vomit. It's painful because I know I'll never enjoy eating in the same way ever again. But I'm starving, so even though I don't want to eat the muck I've been served, I will. I'll force myself to chew down on my bitter, bitter truth until the sour taste leaves my mouth.