Innocence Lost

My first miscarriage.

We got married at 18, just days after my birthday. We both came from families that put a lot of responsibility on our shoulders. We were young, foolish and excited at the "freedom" marriage would give us. Our own apt., our own money, and our own lives to live.

After 6 months of marriage, we decided a baby would be fun! So I went off the Pill, and began our "grand adventure". I think I went off the Pill in October, and got pregnant almost immediately. Back then you had to miss your period, be at least a week late, and then go in to your doctor for a test. Then you waited a week, for the "rabbit to die". No home pregnancy tests back then.

Well, the "rabbit died" and we were pregnant! Looking back, it just seemed too easy. I think I had about 2 glorious weeks of pregnancy. Then the cramping started. Then the bleeding started. I was just over 8 weeks pregnant.

I called my doctor, and he said, "You are miscarrying." What? I thought when you got pregnant, you got to have a baby!? The doctor said, "Bring in anything you pass for testing."

My teenage husband came home from work, and I cried in his arms. I told him I was almost out of pads, so sent him off to buy more. He obviously had no idea of the phsycial and emotional pain I was in, let alone that I really was OUT OF PADS! Because he didn't come back all evening.

So I sat alone, in the dark, hugging a pillow, watching Marcus Welby. Crying my heart out for the baby on the show, dying of Tay-Sachs disease. I had never even heard of that before, but it felt like all the babies in the world were dying that night...

The next morning, I heard a sound while sitting on the toilet. Remembering the doctor's words, I turned and looked in trepitation. OMG, there was something there! What to do?

I ran to the kitchen, to get a slotted spoon, and a tiny jar. Took a deep breath and scooped. And realised it wasn't a blood clot, it was a tiny fetus.

I placed it in my hand, and looked at it with awe! I was holding a baby, just like it looked in the books. I could see the dark spots of eyes, the tiny buds of fingers and toes. And the tiny broken cord. All wrapped up in the sac.

I placed my baby in the jar, and felt a moment of terror. It felt so cold, so stark, to see my baby laying there. I didn't want the baby to dry out, or to be jostled around in the jar. Irrational thoughts, but I couldn't help it. So I filled the jar with water, to make my baby feel more at home...

My husband was at work, so I walked alone to the hospital, just 20 minutes away. Sat in the ER waiting room, my tiny baby in a jar, hidden in my purse. The ER doctor was cruel, asking me why I even thought I was pregnant? Then, without even checking me, pronounced me too young to even know that I was pregnant and sent me on my way.

I was too shocked and shy to say a word in my defence. That I had gone to my doctor to confirm my pregnancy. That I was most definitely pregnant, or at least had been pregnant until that morning. Or that I carried my tiny baby in my purse.

I walked and cried all the way to my mother's house. My mother, who still had three little ones at home, and never seemed to leave the house. I stood on her doorstep, knocking on the locked door, crying my heart out. No-one was home...

So I trudged home, my heart broken, my baby still in my purse, and not a soul who knew or cared...