Waiting for Death

 I went to hear your heartbeat, to see you on that screen and cry tears of joy, but you weren't there. Not only were you missing. The nurse not-so-tenderly searched for you with that long wand, but you could not be found anywhere. I am ashamed to say you weren't my first thought in that room; the pain I was feeling and the heartless attitude of my nurse were keeping my mind off of you. How could I be so selfish? How could I only focus on what I was feeling and not consider you? Even after she removed the wand and walked out, my thoughts were only of my physical state and her rudeness. 

Then the Dr. came in. Whatever she said, it was a blur to me, for I was traumatized. I remember her saying she was seeing no yoke sac and that it was hard to see anything with how uncomfortable I was. Yet, even when she asked me multiple times if I had any questions, my mind was blank and I didn't ask the one question I should have: "Does this mean my baby is dead?" Instead, I mentioned I was overwhelmed and couldn't think of any questions and she was left with a surprised expression on her face, because clearly, every other woman would have asked that question. I just sat there, tears running down my face, with no thoughts or questions because I didn't know what to feel or how to think.

She told me to come back in two weeks. Two weeks isn't a long time, but it is when I'm waiting to find out whether you're dead or alive. What do I do? How do I have positive attitude when I can't feel or hear you in my spirit or body? I know death isn't confirmed, but why do I feel so defeated? I've never met you, but now I may never. My mind keeps reeling in regret, thinking about everything that went wrong at the appointment and what I could have done or asked to help matters. I could have told the nurse that I am sensitive and had never been to the OBGYN. I could have told the Dr. how rude the nurse was and that she made it worse by being insensitive to me. I didn't say anything. 

Here I wait, for two weeks, to know if you're alive. If you aren't, those pictures we took and the onesies I bought will only be harsh reminders of the life you could've had. I will look at my husband and see the baby that could have looked like him. I will see people carrying babies and cry knowing that won't be me. I will look at that pregnancy test and throw it against the wall in anger over your death. But first, I will cry out to God in desperation. I will beg Him for comfort and grace in the midst of what will feel like the end of the world. I will drop to my knees, burst into tears, and raise my hands in longing for peace and love. I will pray now, that God will give you life in me. I will pray for a miracle, even in the midst of almost certain death.