Page 33 of Raw Honey
I’ve been in New York now for almost a month and I know that I am pregnant. I’ve been experiencing all the symptoms for the last couple of weeks and yesterday the doctor confirmed my worst fear. This can’t be happening to me…but it is. There is no question as to what I plan to do. The abortion is scheduled for tomorrow.
My heart begins to ache as I remember that awful day.
I arrive at the doctor’s office and they begin the procedure. They are doing a medical abortion, not surgical, and I am thankful for that. First they have to perform a sonogram to determine that the pregnancy is viable, which it is. Now they can proceed. They give me a methotrexate injection, and the minute it goes into my arm, I feel as if I am on death row getting a lethal injection. I guess that’s really what this is, but unfortunately it doesn’t kill me, just my unborn child. They send me home with some antibiotics. I really don’t feel any different, other than the fact that there is nothing left of my heart.
I can’t stop the tears that are now falling down my cheeks.
I go back five days later to get the next lethal dose. They give me miso-something, but they also refer to it as MTX. It’s an odd name for something so deadly. They tell me that this will trigger contractions and that they could happen within a few hours or several days. I pray that it only takes a few hours and for once in my life, God answers my prayers. Three hours later the contractions begin. I know my baby is already dead. I can’t stop crying. I feel dead inside. Once the fetus—I can’t call it a baby anymore—is expelled, I’m sent home with more antibiotics. I have to come back in seven days for a final exam.
I fucking hate it when I get so emotional. It was just an injection and some pills and my child was gone. But it was the worst two weeks of my life and I still suffer from the emotional damage of what I had done.
How can a simple procedure be so life-altering?
