The Miscarriage − 4 May, 2005

It was the longest afternoon of my life. I drifted from class to class with my head down, wandering through packs of teenagers as if they were nothing but fog. I spoke to no one, and no one spoke to me.

"I guess you’re pretty certain, then."

"Yeah, about a month and a half certain."

I rested my head in my heads and tried to focus on what the teacher was saying. I wasn’t even sure what class I was in. Anxiety clutched at my heart and I couldn’t keep still. Everything seemed to be falling apart around me as I fidgeted in my seat. I imagined the conversation I’d have to have with my mother, and my stomach turned over.

Ten minutes until school was out. I sat motionless behind a computer monitor in the library, my arms resting on the table in front of me.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

She shrugged. "I didn’t want to ruin prom, I guess."

Prom now seemed like such a luxury, and I envied those who could appreciate it and enjoy it, noting the irony that a handful of the attendees would probably be in the same boat that I was before the night was over with.

I cursed my irresponsibility. I tried to picture what kind of father that I would be, what kind of person I would become. I lamented the loss of my freedom, and dipped into despair at the thought. As the library’s occupants gradually migrated toward the door, awaiting the bell that would signal that it was time to leave, I reconstructed my future in my mind, planting squarely in the middle of it this unborn child that would change my life so drastically.

To my surprise, the bleakness of the situation seemed to pass like a dark storm, and more and more pieces began to fit together. Perhaps this isn’t the end of things, I thought. I can do this.

A minute spark of excitement flared up against the hopelessness that had taken root. What had previously been an obstacle was beginning to take the shape of a living, breathing person, a physical representation of myself. I could avoid the mistakes that my parent’s---

My phone buzzed, shocking me from my daydreaming. I picked it up and accepted the message Marie had sent me.

It’s taken care of. I can’t believe how bad this hurts.

My stomach turned over again. Like a ghost the child in my daydreams disappeared, replaced instead by a toilet bowl full of blood. I felt empty. The bell sounded, and like a ghost myself I drifted through the crowd of students and stepped into an unseasonably cold day.