Running Screaming

Reflecting Again

I thought I had trust for others. I always tried to pride myself on being a good person. If one thing could be said, I, Amara Danvers, I was a kind person. I let others bully and walk all over me I did not see my self importance. I did not see my self worth and any value in my life. I existed entirely for others. I wanted to make others happy, even when I was screaming on the inside. I always had this mask I put up around people. The permanent kind. The one that no one could actually tell the difference between what was real and fake. Or maybe it was just me and I was lying to myself?

Either way, My hair grew out in the almost nine months I was pregnant. And Even though I was unhappy, I tried to convince myself I was. I wanted to be loved. A little love was all I wanted in my life. To feel my self worth. To know that I was with who destiny intended for me to be with. And it all boiled down to the fact that through a really traumatic childhood, my stepfather being under the influence and my mother being left physically disabled after she my sister and I were in a traumatic accident... No one had time for me. I was pushed to the back burner, finally made the black sheep of my family, some scar tissue on my brain, lapses of forgetfulness... Some times I wish I had died that day. 

But life never considers what we want. It doesn't hardly even matter. It was a fact that despite having permanent nerve damage and brain damage, I moved along and tried to live a somewhat normal life. I tried to heal. 

And then that devastating day came. I had been up for more than a week straight, 37 weeks and 3 days pregnant, going in for just a general check up. I knew something was wrong. I knew that something was wrong with her. I had been in three times that week because I could feel something was wrong with my baby. My instincts just knew. I begged and begged them to take me seriously... But from the prior Sunday all the way until Friday afternoon, they didn't. It was a joke to them, my health and wellbeing... I was pushed aside again.

"You can't know there is something wrong. Vitals are fine, you're not having contractions. We have to send you home." It was the same response ALL THREE TIMES. I was sent home, in pain, crying and unable to sleep, eat, or enjoy any part of my life at this point. I felt sick, and I developed a cold because I was unable to keep myself healthy. The lack of sleep for the week I was left to endure had me passing out in random intervals, too tired to stay awake. There was once I passed out standing up and hit a wall.

But that very Friday, the one I would never forget, my boyfriend dropped our roommate off at a bar and borrowed his car to take me to the hospital. I remember sitting in the waiting room, feeling slightly nauseous from the pain. The doctor called us in, made me pee in a cup, did the things you are normally supposed to do during your OBGYN visits. I was on a monitor to find the heartbeat and any potential contractions. But after a few minutes, spreading the monitor all over my stomach, they were not able to find it but in one spot. 

The alarm inside of me grew to it's melting point. "Something isn't right. Her heartbeat is too slow," The technician told me. My anxiety peaked and I began to cry. Something was wrong again. Was it my fault? Was I not good enough? "I told you. None of you wanted to listen to me. You told me that because I was a new mother I couldn't possibly know something was not right. Why won't you help me?!" I screamed. I felt like my words were not getting trough as Dr. Bird came through the door with paperwork in his hand.

"We need to get you prepped and scheduled for an emergency C-section or that baby isn't going to make it," they announced. It hit me, like a blow to the gut. The one place where my baby would be the safest would not be safe anymore. I was inadequate. I felt alone, and I asked for a few minutes to make some calls. The first person I called was my father, having only recently in the last 2 years had him become a part of my life... Knowing that my mother couldn't be here with me. I felt devastated as I tried to explain to him what was going on, but not knowing how.