Words of Affirmation

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with themes of pregnancy, abortion, and other topics that may be sensitive to some readers.

The room is green. I always pictured O.R.’s the way you’d see them in movies. Dark walls, an unnecessarily giant room, a big gallery window. This was not that. 

I woke up and the walls were mint, the room was small and people were crowding all around me. They were all wearing masks and gloves. It felt impersonal. I was not comfortable. I was in pain and scared and a little drowsy. 

“How are you feeling Mae?” My doctor asked me. She was a tall woman, I could tell she was strong and a very caring person. She was a sort of solace in a distressing situation. 

I couldn’t answer her. I started to cry instead. 

My nurse was on my other side. “We’re going to put you in the recovery room for a little while and then you can go back to your mom.”

My mom wasn’t here with me. She didn’t even know where I was. She was unknowing of my whole situation, hours away without this knowledge. 

“Okay.” I forced out. I was trying not to full body sob, The kind of tears that steal your breath and clog your heart. 

I hated being wheeled around on the hospital bed. It made my upset stomach hurt even more. A motion sickness I had never once experienced before this moment. 

I wanted to be held. I wanted to be told that everything was okay. I wanted reassurance that I made the right decision. 

For I couldn’t have a baby. I especially could not have had that baby. I was young and stupid. I had no money and no future. 

I didn’t understand that you could regret a choice and still know your decision was right. I knew I made the responsible choice, not only for me and the father, but for the child that would not have been cared for in the way it deserved. That baby was entitled to the entire world. It deserved a life full of endless opportunities and parents that were in a position to provide that, 

I still missed my baby though. 

Even if I spent the past month so sick that I could not eat. I barely left my bed and instead was brought apples and bananas that I would instantly throw up. Crackers helped the nausea slightly, but they hurt the most when coming back up. I was so hungry, so sick, so miserable. 

I was brought to a bright room on the same floor. There were a lot of windows covered by ugly curtains and multiple beds with multiple other women who were just like me. Women who all had their own valid reasons to terminate their pregnancies. Women who were all in pain comparable to mine. Women who just wanted comfort. 

A new nurse started to take my vitals. She was a cheery woman, I pondered how she could spend all day putting on a front like this in a room this emotionally draining. She was a million times stronger than I ever was. 

She checked the chart that laid at my feet and then gave me some medication. She went through all of the standard questions. She didn’t say more than what was necessary. 

Until she got to the end. 

“Is there anything more you need?” She asked me. 

“I want cheese and crackers and my boyfriend.” I cried. 

Tears had been in a constant stream down my face for what felt like forever. I could not seem to get in control of my emotions. I validated my feelings by frequently reminding myself it must be partly my hormones but I also had to recognise the emotional turmoil I had just experienced, 

What I am feeling is valid. 

What I am feeling is real. 

What I am feeling is okay. 

I looked up to notice the same nurse at the foot of my bed. She was walking with another woman. I’m assuming that is another nurse. 

“We’re gonna push along a little faster okay hun.” 

They feel sorry for me. 

Despite being an adult I am the youngest here by far. I wonder if they see this a lot in younger patients. 

I accepted their pity and gladly moved into the room where I was before the surgery. The last place I was with my baby. When he and I sat on my bed in each other's arms as we cried and said goodbye to our most magical creation. 

Just because a baby is conceived out of love does not mean that it will live an extraordinary life. That was a hard pill for me to swallow when making this decision. 

He was supportive of everything I wanted. He waited with me at doctors offices and bought me my last meal. He was a perfect comfort. 

I waited on my bed as my tears started to dry. I was going to be okay soon. 

All I wanted was to be held. I wanted to be told that everything was okay. I wanted reassurance that I made the right decision. 

And I would soon have that. 

He came behind my curtain with a pickle in his hand. “Can she eat this now?” He asked my new nurse. 

She nodded and I smiled. 

He sat on the side of my bed, taking the cap of my head and petting my hair. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked. 

“I’m not nauseous.” I said in between bites of the giant dill pickle. “Thank you.” I smiled as a new set of tears made their way to my waterline. 

I scooted over and he took the hint. He wrapped his entire body around mine. Holding me in the tightest hug possible. “You’re so strong and perfect.” He said before kissing the top of my head. 

I sniffled into his chest. 

He started to rub my back and repeat words of encouragement. “You’re amazing, you’re incredible, you’re the love of my life.”

“I miss our baby.” I confessed. 

“I know, me too. More than anything though, I’m glad you’re okay.” 

Physically I was okay enough. I knew however it would take a while for me to be who I was before, if I could ever become her again. 

“I’m here for you, whatever you need.” He kissed my forehead and then alid silently next to me. Secretly sniffling and holding me while I cried.