deafbajagal
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My bed was wheeled out of the examination room into the hallway of the hospital wing. The nurse told me she'd be right back. I'm laying there, looking at the stained spots on the ceiling, trying to hold back tears. The needle from the IV was stinging my hand. I could feel the cold fluid rushing through my arm. I reminded myself- I've done this before. Piece of cake. My empty words resounded when a woman with a small baby whizzed past me. "No heartbeat. We must proceed." I was prepared for the words. I did all the right things. I made the appointment. I packed the bags for the girls. I made dinner the night before. I knew it was coming. Yet my heart sank. "No heartbeat. We must proceed."
Can we hate God? When He toys with our hearts? When He dangles hope in front of us and just as we reach to touch it, He throws it far away. Mom told me when I was young that it wasn't good to hate God. That God understands everything, and we are not capable in seeing good out of the bad. We are to trust Him with faith.
The nurse came back, accompanied with an interpreter who signed her words. I hardly remember what she said other than reciting the procedure. She shoved some forms under my hand, and I signed my name without reading the words. I remembered the feel of warm blood trickling down my legs as I stood in my classroom. I still had the piece of chalk I was holding in my hand when I got to the emergency room. "What's wrong?" the lady asked, but she didn't mean it. She was yawning, ready to go home. I didn't know what to say except that I no longer felt anything. "What do you mean you don't feel anything?" And I realized at that moment that the feeling of great emptiness had engulfed me. I knew. I just knew. After all, I am a mother.
"No heartbeat. We must proceed." And just like that, in a whirlwind of things I would not remember later, I was on this bed, looking at the ceiling with stains, which soon started to move as they wheeled me into the operation room. The sudden gush of icy cold air hit my face, and I began to shiver as the world closed around me. We were proceeding, following the plan. We were prepared.
No one held my hand. This bothers me, even now. My Papa Bert told me once, "Hands are meant to be held." One moment there was life within me, and then came the moment I was holding a piece of chalk in my hand, telling a lady that I felt nothing. Such a paradox, isn't it? Feeling empty.
"No heartbeat." I was prepared for the words. But I wasn't prepared for my own heart to hurt so much.
Can we hate God? When He toys with our hearts? When He dangles hope in front of us and just as we reach to touch it, He throws it far away. Mom told me when I was young that it wasn't good to hate God. That God understands everything, and we are not capable in seeing good out of the bad. We are to trust Him with faith.
The nurse came back, accompanied with an interpreter who signed her words. I hardly remember what she said other than reciting the procedure. She shoved some forms under my hand, and I signed my name without reading the words. I remembered the feel of warm blood trickling down my legs as I stood in my classroom. I still had the piece of chalk I was holding in my hand when I got to the emergency room. "What's wrong?" the lady asked, but she didn't mean it. She was yawning, ready to go home. I didn't know what to say except that I no longer felt anything. "What do you mean you don't feel anything?" And I realized at that moment that the feeling of great emptiness had engulfed me. I knew. I just knew. After all, I am a mother.
"No heartbeat. We must proceed." And just like that, in a whirlwind of things I would not remember later, I was on this bed, looking at the ceiling with stains, which soon started to move as they wheeled me into the operation room. The sudden gush of icy cold air hit my face, and I began to shiver as the world closed around me. We were proceeding, following the plan. We were prepared.
No one held my hand. This bothers me, even now. My Papa Bert told me once, "Hands are meant to be held." One moment there was life within me, and then came the moment I was holding a piece of chalk in my hand, telling a lady that I felt nothing. Such a paradox, isn't it? Feeling empty.
"No heartbeat." I was prepared for the words. But I wasn't prepared for my own heart to hurt so much.
