yet, it made me sad all over again.
Fuck miscarriage.
The nurse pushed a cup in my hands and handed me two little toilette packets. It was like a repeat of before.
I stared at the items in my hand before looking at her. Did she not know I wasn’t pregnant anymore? “I…” What the fuck was I supposed to say?
As if she sensed my discomfort, she placed a cool hand on my forearm. “We just need to test your urine.”
I looked at her like she was out of her fucking mind. “Why?”
She looked around before leaning in. “It’s common, after a miscarriage.” Her voice was soft and her tomato face bobbed up and down, trying to get me to understand.
She said it like it was a secret we couldn’t say too loudly, lest we disturb the still-expecting mothers. A rage flooded my hands and I shook as she walked away and closed the door to the bathroom.
Humiliating as it was, I pissed into the cup and joined the nurse in the exam room just next door. She did the standard shit, taking my blood pressure and asking me if I’d been avoiding hot tubs and bathtubs, but she was so detached—like she was a shitty actress reciting lines she’d said so often that she was indifferent to how they were delivered.
For the first time since I stepped into the office, I wanted Nathan with me. With the exception of the spectacular blow job I’d given him, we’d been like a betrothed Amish couple for as much as we’d touched recently. As fucking cheesy as it sounded—because I knew it was the cheesiest of shit—touching him that night had felt like we’d found our way back to one another, even if only momentarily. We’d fucked the night we met—I shouldn’t have been surprised that sex was what brought us together time and time again, and not just the kind of together that equaled his P in my V.
“Dr. Parker will be in shortly to do a pelvic exam,” the nurse continued, pulling a paper sheet out from the cupboard behind her. “Undress your lower half and climb up onto the table.”
And with that, she was gone.
I stared at the sheet for a moment, trying really fucking hard not to grind my teeth. Having anyone’s hands—anyone who wasn’t Nathan, at least—on or in my vagina was the last thing I wanted. But I did as the nurse directed and was flat on my back when Dr. Parker entered.
“Hello,” he said with a soft smile as he walked to the sink and washed his hands. It occurred to me how awkward this situation was and I held onto that thought. Some levity was needed right now, before he’d open me up and tell me again I was empty.
Another nurse came in, this one looking significantly more in touch with how someone like me might feel. The first nurse, with her tomato red face, had made me feel like my miscarriage had scarlet-lettered me, like I’d better be mindful of how others might feel for my loss.
Something about the new nurse’s face made me want to cry. Maybe it was the fact that she was near my mom’s age, or maybe it was the way her eyes stayed trained on me, as if she was looking for fissures in the armor I was wearing, to reveal how fucking awful I felt under all of it.
Dr. Parker began the exam, explaining that he was ensuring no tissue had been left behind. The nurse stood by me, smelling like lavender and I kept my eyes on the wall so I didn’t look at her and give in to the burning behind my eyes.
After it was done, they left to allow me to redress.
Suddenly, I wanted tomato-faced indifferent nurse back.
However, when the doctor returned, the sympathetic nurse was with him.
“Let’s talk about birth control,” the doctor said after expressing his seemingly very sincere apology for what happened. He’d asked if I had questions, but I sure as fuck did not, not with lavender nurse looking at me like she was waiting for me to crack in half.
“The pill,” I said immediately.
“Have you used it before?”
I nodded and Dr. Parker went over some of the different options. “Whatever won’t make
Fuck miscarriage.
The nurse pushed a cup in my hands and handed me two little toilette packets. It was like a repeat of before.
I stared at the items in my hand before looking at her. Did she not know I wasn’t pregnant anymore? “I…” What the fuck was I supposed to say?
As if she sensed my discomfort, she placed a cool hand on my forearm. “We just need to test your urine.”
I looked at her like she was out of her fucking mind. “Why?”
She looked around before leaning in. “It’s common, after a miscarriage.” Her voice was soft and her tomato face bobbed up and down, trying to get me to understand.
She said it like it was a secret we couldn’t say too loudly, lest we disturb the still-expecting mothers. A rage flooded my hands and I shook as she walked away and closed the door to the bathroom.
Humiliating as it was, I pissed into the cup and joined the nurse in the exam room just next door. She did the standard shit, taking my blood pressure and asking me if I’d been avoiding hot tubs and bathtubs, but she was so detached—like she was a shitty actress reciting lines she’d said so often that she was indifferent to how they were delivered.
For the first time since I stepped into the office, I wanted Nathan with me. With the exception of the spectacular blow job I’d given him, we’d been like a betrothed Amish couple for as much as we’d touched recently. As fucking cheesy as it sounded—because I knew it was the cheesiest of shit—touching him that night had felt like we’d found our way back to one another, even if only momentarily. We’d fucked the night we met—I shouldn’t have been surprised that sex was what brought us together time and time again, and not just the kind of together that equaled his P in my V.
“Dr. Parker will be in shortly to do a pelvic exam,” the nurse continued, pulling a paper sheet out from the cupboard behind her. “Undress your lower half and climb up onto the table.”
And with that, she was gone.
I stared at the sheet for a moment, trying really fucking hard not to grind my teeth. Having anyone’s hands—anyone who wasn’t Nathan, at least—on or in my vagina was the last thing I wanted. But I did as the nurse directed and was flat on my back when Dr. Parker entered.
“Hello,” he said with a soft smile as he walked to the sink and washed his hands. It occurred to me how awkward this situation was and I held onto that thought. Some levity was needed right now, before he’d open me up and tell me again I was empty.
Another nurse came in, this one looking significantly more in touch with how someone like me might feel. The first nurse, with her tomato red face, had made me feel like my miscarriage had scarlet-lettered me, like I’d better be mindful of how others might feel for my loss.
Something about the new nurse’s face made me want to cry. Maybe it was the fact that she was near my mom’s age, or maybe it was the way her eyes stayed trained on me, as if she was looking for fissures in the armor I was wearing, to reveal how fucking awful I felt under all of it.
Dr. Parker began the exam, explaining that he was ensuring no tissue had been left behind. The nurse stood by me, smelling like lavender and I kept my eyes on the wall so I didn’t look at her and give in to the burning behind my eyes.
After it was done, they left to allow me to redress.
Suddenly, I wanted tomato-faced indifferent nurse back.
However, when the doctor returned, the sympathetic nurse was with him.
“Let’s talk about birth control,” the doctor said after expressing his seemingly very sincere apology for what happened. He’d asked if I had questions, but I sure as fuck did not, not with lavender nurse looking at me like she was waiting for me to crack in half.
“The pill,” I said immediately.
“Have you used it before?”
I nodded and Dr. Parker went over some of the different options. “Whatever won’t make
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