The Lady Next Door

The lady next door is crazy! She has a pro-life yard sign all year around. I’m not sure what she has done to it but even hurricane winds cannot pull it out. She volunteers once a week as a “counselor” outside a Planned Parenthood clinic, whatever the hell that means. She goes to a pro-life march every year and asks everybody in the neighborhood if we would like to join her. How are you supposed to respond to an invitation like that? The most frustrating part is that she is a doctor like me. As a doctor, she should know better. How on earth can she even call a first-trimester embryo a “baby”. It doesn’t even look like a human for the most part!

There is one thing, though, that I admire about her. She has adopted a beautiful little girl. They spend most of the weekends together in the backyard. The little girl runs around the yard, the wind messes with her curls and plays with her clothes, and the lady next door just watches her. That is the only time I have ever seen her smile. The rumor is she convinced the biological mother of her daughter not to abort her, promising that she would adopt her once she is born. She is now raising her daughter alone. Her husband left them shortly after the adoption. I’m not sure whether it was the adoption or the pro-life stuff that broke off their ten-year marriage. I’ve heard they had many miscarriages before they decided to adopt. It is very sad, everything that she has gone through, but doesn’t justify her behavior.

I’m pregnant with my first child so I can imagine how devastating it can be to lose a pregnancy. Right now, I’m doing my best not to call it a baby. It doesn’t even look like one yet. First, it’s just a ball of cells, then something like a worm, then a fish, frog, lizard, puppy, and then a very tiny human being. We haven’t told many people that we are expecting. Well, actually, I didn’t let him. It’s too early! There is a high risk of miscarriage during the first trimester, and what if our fetus has Down syndrome? It would be a hard decision, but I think we are ready to make it if necessary. We are going to figure out if that’s the case today.

The ultrasound tech puts the probe on my belly. I expect a cold gel but it’s warm. There is a monitor right above my head showing the ultrasound. The shadow of my baby appears on the monitor. It looks almost like a human being now. The room is quiet, too quiet. Something isn’t quite right. Half of my brain knows what, but the other half doesn’t want to know. The ultrasound tech frowns.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t see a heartbeat.” Her eyes look sad. “I’m going to get the doctor.”

This can’t be true. If my baby is dead, why am I still nauseous, why are my breasts tender, why do I feel tired all the time? The ultrasound tech is making a mistake. She is just not a very good technician. Let’s see what the doctor says. But she is going to make decisions based on the ultrasound. She will make a mistake, too. We should get a second opinion.

The ultrasound tech comes back, followed by the doctor. She puts the probe back on my belly. Distant memories of babies on ultrasounds come flooding from the medical school days. Vibrant little white circles open and close on the screen, loud, high beat sounds fill the room, tears of joy run down the cheeks of mothers.

There is no movement on my screen, no beating circle, no sound, only silence. Disoriented, I look around the room, my eyes find his. Tear wells in them. His fingers find mine, squeezing gently. He glances back at the monitor one last time. I know he sees the silence, too. But…, but…, this cannot be true. I’m making a mistake. He’s making a mistake. She’s making a mistake. My baby is not dead!

The doctor hands me a prescription. I am to use four of these tablets so that the “pregnancy products” are expelled. Isn’t it funny how people change their vocabulary? Just half an hour ago, I was the only one who was not calling it a baby, now I’m the only one who does. My baby is now “pregnancy products” to everyone else.

I look up my prescription. I know how it works, but I don’t know how it feels. Isn’t it funny that they never teach you that in medical school? Just searching the name doesn’t give me much. I add “experience” to my search. Now, the search is more relevant. I find a useful website. It is interesting how the experiences are polar opposites. Some say it’s just a heavy period, some say it’s similar to labor. Either they are all exaggerating, or they have not taken the same thing.

No one seems to be like me on this website. They are choosing this. They cannot wait for it to be over, to get done with it, to return to their normal lives. How dare they? They have a baby whose little heart is beating, whose ultrasound looks vibrant, loud, alive! And they are choosing to end it. I know it is none of my business, I may have chosen the same a few years ago, but how dare they? I wish we could switch places. I would take their baby’s heartbeat and give them their normal life. Hell, I would carry their baby to term if I could. I would raise their baby for them. Just please, please don’t stop the tiny heart.

Each time one of my babies’ hearts stopped beating, it took a part of my heart with it. It divided my mind in half, and one half was expelled with the “pregnancy products”. My babies left me but not before they changed me. They changed me into something, someone, I never thought I would become. I’m the lady next door.