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IT WAS COLD.
But the feeling was always the same.
ALWAYS.
I was alone.
No one was here with me, to help me, console me or hold my hand.
After checking in, I was left to sit in the waiting room, where a few other females all sat as well, before someone came out and got back to me.
We were kinda spaced out, in dull, rusty green colored chairs. It's about five other girls here.
It's early though.
I got here at 8:30 on the dot.
I'm ten weeks pregnant.
My first appointment was last week.
I'm healthy.
Good weight.
Good heart rate.
When they did the ultrasound I was asked the usual question, which I always thought was so fucking stupid.
Would you like to keep a printout of the ultrasound?
I never understood that.
Like why on earth would I want to keep that?
To remind me of what I'd done?
Why?
But anyways, I said no and after talking to a nurse about everything this procedure would entail, I was told to return next week, just to have more time to prepare if I wanted.
And I did just that.
I thought long and hard.
Even looked up photos of aborted fetuses.
I studied them.
I cried.
I felt anger.
I hated myself.
And I harbored ill feelings towards David.
But, in a weeks time, I'd allowed myself to come to terms with it all.
My stomach is a teeny bit pudgy, but you still can't tell. My morning sickness has been through the roof so bad, I threw up on the way here.
I could say that was one of the things I surely wouldn't miss.
David had been pretty good too.
Pretty good at avoiding me.
I'd hadn't heard from him that whole week. We spoke today though, given he had to pick me up once all this was over.
