Missed Abortions and The Pursuit of Happiness

I never ever thought I'd be the emotional type, although clearly, I am. I mean, at least somewhat, on the inside. Most of you know me as happy happy Shani. And I am, really. I think I'm just at a loss at how to describe the experience of just being in a room, a dark room, that smells of goop and intimate parts.

I was supposed to be observing a pregnancy scan: 10 weeks, 5 days. My heart stopped when I didn't see a baby kicking and moving on screen, although I hope to God the mother didn't see it on my face. I tend to remain stoic, neutral and I tried to be that way for the entire duration of the scan, while the doctor poked and prodded. It was my first experience with a miscarriage, and to be honest, all I want to do is burst into tears. Maybe I might, and I don't know when it will hit me. I don't even know why I feel this way. 

I thought about me being on that chair, receiving that news. Would I have someone with me to hold my hand? Would that someone be holding my hand? Or would I be there alone, holding my own hand, like I always am? Would I feel like I had lost a part of myself, would I feel as if some part of me would now forever be missing? Would I cry or would I just maintain that stoic, neutral face, accepting circumstances with a grim determination?

Would I face God with the same sort of gritty realistic demeanour I put on every time I get some bad news? "Oh yes, throw another one at me why don't you. I'll be strong for You, in You."

Makes you question what is meant to be, what is isn't. This isn't the time or the place, when is the time or place? When will my miracle come for me? Questions of self-pity and anger all bubble together and empty out of your uterus, possible hope and futures bubbling out in little streams of consciousness that have changed the reaches of your universe.

This is more than school, this is life. I don't think I'm ready for it at all.