(no subject)
I know people say this all the time, but it's amazing how far you end up from the places and situations you thought you were going to be in, or hoped anyway. I'm simultaneously quite happy, but sad as well. I'm very lucky to have met Paul, he's not the kind of person that I thought I would be with, but maybe that's a good thing. He took care of me when I was in the worst place I've ever been, and I know I would do the same for him. A lot of the things that happened--well, not many people would want to stay around for them, and really no one else did. Living with him isn't as scary as I thought it would be, it's pretty nice actually. I'm happy and grateful for that.
But I'm sad. I didn't understand this kind of pain before. I thought pain was a broken heart...and it is, but this loss was almost unbearable. And the worst part is that I know how I saw people in this situation before it happened to me. Oh, it's for the best, it's nature taking its course, it just means that something was wrong in the first place, you can try again. It didn't take me long to realize what an asshole I was. It didn't take much longer than that for things to get so much worse.
See, my life changed. It was scary and unexpected, but really, it was something I had never thought I'd be lucky enough to experience. I used to joke that I couldn't wait to make people give up their seats for me on the bus, that I would just be the happiest pregnant woman possible. And I was. I knew that underneath the shock, I was so happy. Not to mention, I decided to stay in the UK, to move in with someone I'd only dated a few months--life changing stuff, for both of us.
The only way that I got through those months was by constantly, incessantly, almost obsessively reminding myself that it could be worse. If I didn't have those amazing doctors and nurses looking after me, I would have just thought it was a miscarriage. There was a girl in the hospital bed next to mine, she didn't speak English, the poor poor thing. She was in worse shape than I, and was getting her tubes removed. I knew that was a possibility, but luckily the meds worked. At the same time, it's a very unhappy thing to choose to end a pregnancy that you wish you didn't have to. It was also physically agonizing, when the pain hit I didn't stop screaming or shaking until they gave me the morphine. I couldn't even control myself, it was surreal. It's times like that you have an innate longing for you mother. Paul was wonderful, but I still feel the guilt of making him deal with me on his own. And it was so slow, day by day, that I began to feel less pregnant. And the thing is, I don't think I can do it again. It's not even the physical stuff, months of recovery, not being able to face the day without codeine, permanent track marks, what have you. I've just never felt this alone before. And it's not like I can talk about it. This is pretty much the first time I've summarized the whole thing. The few friends that knew what was going on here didn't even call or send a message the whole time, not that I can blame them, like I said, I didn't understand before what it was like. Once or twice, I've dropped the word ectopic in conversation, and things became so uncomfortable that I immediately regretted it. So now I just don't discuss it.
And now I'm furiously preparing to apply to medical school, because if I don't, I don't know what I'll do! I've abandoned the family idea, at least for now. If I don't keep busy I think I might cry, and I've been pretty good at avoiding that so far.
But I'm sad. I didn't understand this kind of pain before. I thought pain was a broken heart...and it is, but this loss was almost unbearable. And the worst part is that I know how I saw people in this situation before it happened to me. Oh, it's for the best, it's nature taking its course, it just means that something was wrong in the first place, you can try again. It didn't take me long to realize what an asshole I was. It didn't take much longer than that for things to get so much worse.
See, my life changed. It was scary and unexpected, but really, it was something I had never thought I'd be lucky enough to experience. I used to joke that I couldn't wait to make people give up their seats for me on the bus, that I would just be the happiest pregnant woman possible. And I was. I knew that underneath the shock, I was so happy. Not to mention, I decided to stay in the UK, to move in with someone I'd only dated a few months--life changing stuff, for both of us.
The only way that I got through those months was by constantly, incessantly, almost obsessively reminding myself that it could be worse. If I didn't have those amazing doctors and nurses looking after me, I would have just thought it was a miscarriage. There was a girl in the hospital bed next to mine, she didn't speak English, the poor poor thing. She was in worse shape than I, and was getting her tubes removed. I knew that was a possibility, but luckily the meds worked. At the same time, it's a very unhappy thing to choose to end a pregnancy that you wish you didn't have to. It was also physically agonizing, when the pain hit I didn't stop screaming or shaking until they gave me the morphine. I couldn't even control myself, it was surreal. It's times like that you have an innate longing for you mother. Paul was wonderful, but I still feel the guilt of making him deal with me on his own. And it was so slow, day by day, that I began to feel less pregnant. And the thing is, I don't think I can do it again. It's not even the physical stuff, months of recovery, not being able to face the day without codeine, permanent track marks, what have you. I've just never felt this alone before. And it's not like I can talk about it. This is pretty much the first time I've summarized the whole thing. The few friends that knew what was going on here didn't even call or send a message the whole time, not that I can blame them, like I said, I didn't understand before what it was like. Once or twice, I've dropped the word ectopic in conversation, and things became so uncomfortable that I immediately regretted it. So now I just don't discuss it.
And now I'm furiously preparing to apply to medical school, because if I don't, I don't know what I'll do! I've abandoned the family idea, at least for now. If I don't keep busy I think I might cry, and I've been pretty good at avoiding that so far.