The morning after a party I had been at, I was feeling rough. I wasn’t a big drinker, but that night I went all out, mainly due to some issues that I was having with my boyfriend; we had been arguing a lot recently but I still really loved him. Even though I had drunk a lot that night, I still was surprised when I suddenly needed to throw up after I attempted an English muffin for breakfast. About an hour later, I took another visit to the toilet, but it was just an awful dry heave. After that, I felt OK for the rest of the day – just a little tired.
The next day, I had another not-so-pleasant afternoon with my boyfriend. He had been overly moody and distant the last few weeks and it was complete torture. My mind would race all the time with possible scenarios; usually during classes. Needles to say, my school work was taking a beating over this situation as well. I went out drinking the next Saturday night as well, even though I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t going to make a habit of drowning my sorrows. I wasn’t sick that next morning, just a stifling headache that time.
Just after lunch I started getting the worst cramps of my life. I never really kept track of my period, so I wasn’t sure if I was due, but I assumed that was it – but I had NEVER experienced pain like that. I curled up on my bed and although it didn’t help much, I stayed there for a while... until I really had to go to the bathroom. I was still cramping and I stayed on the toilet for an eternity. It was disgusting – like the worst period of my life. There was so much blood, but it was a little chunky and really dark. I didn’t feel like I was dying or anything, so I just let it all come out. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone else home all afternoon, so I just stayed in the bathroom for a couple hours. It seemed pointless trying to contain this flow with a pad or tampon. It got under control later in the afternoon and I was OK by the time dinner time came around, but I was still concerned as to what the hell happened.
The next day, I told my friend what happened. She said it sounded like I had a miscarriage. WHAT? I was pregnant? OH MY GOD! She took the afternoon off school with me and went to a free clinic that she knew about in the city. They took me fairly quickly; we barely had enough time to joke about all the flavoured condoms that were in a giant bowl in the tiny waiting room. She took a urine sample from me and asked me a few questions about what I experienced. When she came back, she confirmed that my HCG levels were slightly elevated. She then took an ultrasound and it sealed the deal. I had been pregnant, but wasn’t anymore. There wasn’t really anything that I needed to do – just to keep a close eye on the heavy bleeding and if it continued for much longer that I should come back or go to the hospital. I was totally fine after a couple days. The bleeding had lightened to a normal period flow and then by the weekend, it was done.
I didn’t really mourn the loss of my baby much – mainly because I didn’t even know I was pregnant until it was too late. It was like nature had made the decision for me; a decision that would not have been too difficult to make, but still much easier this way. I was only 17 and not ready to have a baby, no way! The only heart string that pulled a little was the fact that it was my boyfriend’s child. Although we weren’t on the best of terms, I really did love him deeply and I took comfort in that. I don’t think he could have handled it if I had to ask him to contribute to a decision about a pregnancy to which he was 50% responsible for. He probably would have blown a circuit or two. Men can be so damn fragile, seriously! I never did end up telling him what happened; I didn’t see any point. I sure as hell was A LOT more diligent with my birth control habits after that experience– that is for sure!