"I did not expect to make it till morning, I did not want to, I hoped the pain would kill me. It didn't. After a 9 million hours of pain, I had to get up and pretend everything was okay when in a real sense, the nightmare was far from being over. The next four days were hell, the bleeding was supposed to stop after 48 hours, and here I was, 4 days later, with no change. Christian would call once in a while to reassure me that it was just a matter of time, but I knew better, I knew he just wanted me to be okay for his sake, so he didn't answer any unnecessary questions. He was against me telling my sister what was going on, even when we both knew something was definitely wrong, instead, he told me to go back to the clinic.
The doctor gave me some antibiotics and assured me that sometimes it took that long, it was normal, and that everything was okay. But when the bleeding persisted one week later, he called me back to the clinic, suspecting complications. I would have been surprised if I didn't have any. I felt like God was seriously punishing me for what I did. Tears did not bring me satisfaction, I just wished Christian had given our baby a chance, why did he so much not want to give the baby a chance? I tried talking him into it, I really tried, but he wouldn't agree to it. I just needed his consent. I wanted him to say he would try. I had pictured our baby having his eyes, a little girl with dark hair, I pictured my baby with his looks. The only thing I would have wanted the baby to inherit from me was my heart, but not anymore, my heart was now stained with the blood of an innocent soul.
I would say we killed her both, but it was my decision. He did not force me to do it, he did not tie me and drag me to that place, at least not literally, he did not threaten me into doing it. But he didn't have to do any of these, I trusted him, I believed him. I loved him, but at that moment, I regretted all these, I wished I had walked away at the very beginning and left things at 'hello'
The doctor examined me and said there were parts of the baby that didn't come out. He accused me of lying about the baby being a month old and said the dose would have worked if it really was. I was shocked. I didn't know what to tell him, I still wouldn't know what to say. If it had not been any clearer to me then, it now was, I had murdered my baby in cold blood. I did not cry. You just reach a point when you can't cry, I was abashed, I had betrayed my baby, I was a disgrace, I was in anguish, I was in pain.
The doctor said I had to undergo the Manual Vacuum Aspiration process as soon as possible, or I was going to develop an infection. I had no money, I could not even afford the antibiotics, and yes, Christian had not sent any money yet, and when I called and requested the money, he said he could only afford the antibiotics at the moment. The doctor told me to come back for the procedure the next day and clearly stated that he was only helping me to finish what he had started. He did not need my appreciation, he wanted his payment.
Having googled what MVA entailed, I was reluctant to go back to the clinic, but once again, Christian chipped in and reminded me of the various dangers of getting an infection if I didn't. I thought I was mentally prepared until two more doctors came into the room to give my doctor a hand. I felt like a piece of pie to be worked on. I knew there was something seriously wrong, but nobody told me anything. It was like being operated on without anesthesia, raw pain flooded my body only slowing down at the veins, for emphasis. The pain I experienced was unbearable, I would prefer getting kicked and shot in the head over and over again to it. The physical pain was nothing compared to the mental pain. It never got easier. It never will.
The nightmare did not end until weeks of regular check-ups, and only then, did I feel a wave of relief from the physical pain. I, however, had nightmares and sad thoughts in my mind that I never shared with anyone. I cried myself to sleep and could not forgive myself for what I had done. I prayed to be over it, to move on, however, the deep regret inside me never let me rest. Those were the beginning of my dark days. I officially signed a contract with the devil. Would you forgive yourself?"
"You said you prayed to be over it, in my understanding, you prayed for a second chance, for forgiveness, that's why you are still here"
It is already past time, and I don't want to be in the torture room anymore, so I get up to leave
"Let's see if you still have the same thoughts after listening to the whole story"
YOU ARE READING
RENEWED HOPE
غموض / إثارةKayla, a 23-year-old, wakes up in a mental hospital after attempting to commit suicide. At first, all she wants to do is get out of the hospital, but later on, she trusts Doctor Hendrey and tells him what has been bothering her.
