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After a week or so I finally spoke to my baby’s father.
I told him I’d lost the baby and he simply admitted to me that he was glad the child died. This way he wouldn’t
have to pay child support. I remember hanging up on him, consumed with hate that he would have so little compassion for me
after I lost my very first child. My son was dead, and since I had to have the abortion (the doctor told me I had started
to miscarry) I didn’t have the closure of a funeral. I didn’t get to hold my baby. I never even saw his face.
I only had a memory of him kicking inside of me in the early part my fifth month of pregnancy. I truly felt I was the most
useless woman on the planet. The one thing I should have been able to do blindfolded
was have a healthy baby, and I failed at that. This was the only time in my life I was ever pregnant, and I wanted that child
to live. Due to other extreme medical issues that arose later in my life, I had to undergo a partial hysterectomy. Marcus
would be the only child I would ever have or ever be close to having. Those who knew tried to console me by saying I could
adopt, but the feeling of loss was unbearable. There were no words anyone could utter that could comfort me.
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All I could feel was extreme devastation. One day I was happy, pregnant, and full of hope for the future
with my child. I was basking in his kicking and enjoying the life that was growing within
me. At the end of the following day, I was grieving the loss of my son, my Marcus. I felt like I couldn’t go on with
life. I became consumed with guilt, thinking that maybe I could have done something else to save him. I kept thinking
I could have eaten healthier meals or reduced stress earlier or sought medical attention sooner. I wanted to have a concrete
reason why this happened and pressed the doctor for a reason, but there wasn’t one. I was bitter at God for a long time.
It seemed like each time I tried to focus on finding a glimmer of happiness in my life it was suddenly taken away. I didn’t
eat much, talk much, or even pray much. I just wallowed in the depression that seemed to consume me. My question now was,
Where was God when I was laying on that table losing my son? I asked God why didn’t he allow me die?
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