I Forgot to Forgive Myself

"In order to heal we must first forgive, and sometimes the person we must forgive is ourselves" -Anonymous

"We need to perform an ultrasound. It's going to hurt because you have a lot of inflammation, but the sooner we can get in and figure out what's going on, the sooner we can get you feeling better. I'm very concerned about the amount of blood you have lost, and I'm paging the on-call OBGYN to assess you. In the mean time we will give you something for the pain. Try to relax. The nurse will be in to transport you to the ultrasound room shortly."

The ER doctor was nice enough. Everything about her screamed capable yet exhausted. Her jet black hair was lazily pulled into something that resembled a bun, and the bright pink lanyard around her neck showcased an ID picture of a well rested and more polished version of herself.

As she left the room I tried to take her advice. I closed my eyes, laid back on the bed and attempted to "relax". As I listened to the hum of the non-distinct chatter of nurses and patients outside the door, my mind drifted to the last time someone told me I'd be given an ultrasound. It was only two weeks ago.

In fact I still had a copy of the image in my purse. A grainy black and white photo of what the nurse apathetically called "the fetus." Apparently it had taken residency inside of me approximately 8 weeks prior, and by law they were required to show it me via ultrasound before performing the ultimate eviction.

I remembered the numbness that overcame me when the nurse pointed out the heartbeat. I gazed at the flicker on the screen as the nurse's voice faded in and out in the background. She explained that the procedure would not "hurt the fetus" and that it would all be "quick and painless"

Quick and painless. Quick and painless.

2 weeks and one trip to the Emergency Room later, I definitely wouldn't describe the experience as quick or painless.

I was jolted back to reality when the door swung open and an energetic male nurse came in to escort me to the ultrasound room.

"Alright lovely lets get you out of here" He sang as he released the brake on my bed and began to wheel me down the hall. I resented his chipper demeanor and overall sense of contentment. Why was he so damn happy?

This ultrasound room was a lot darker than the one from two weeks ago. There were no encouraging posters on the walls or windows to let in the light from the sun. The only force to combat the darkness was the glow from the computer screens and a sliver of light that crept in for beneath the closed door. 

"I'm going to try to make this as quick as possible. I know you're in a lot of pain." The tech announced as she began to prepare the tools she would need for an internal ultrasound. She reminded me that it would hurt, but promised she would do her part to make the pain as minimal as possible. 

I did not respond. What was the point? I was too tired to form words. Emotionally and physically. In fact,  I hadn't said more than a few complete sentences since I'd arrived. I wasn't in the mood for words.

As I lay there in silence, listening to the beeping of the ultrasound machine, the technician's wand delivered painful blows each time she shifted the wand inside of me. I began to berate myself with judgments and insults. 

This was all my fault. I was in this much pain because I deserved it. This was my punishment for aborting my sweet baby. This is what I get for being irresponsible.

In the midst of my internal assault on myself I managed to glance up at the monitor that projected an image of my empty uterus.

Hot tears began to pour from my eyes and pool in my ears.

"Are you ok?" The tech asked with concern. "I know this hurts. It'll only be a few more minutes."

Again,  I did not reply. I just lay there. Looking through blurred eyes at the womb that only two weeks ago held "the fetus"

Instantly my mind began to flash back and forth between the images of my ultrasounds past and present. "Before" and "after"... "before and after"... the images flashed onto the screen of my mind, mimicking an old school projector on a blank wall.

I parted my parched lips and whispered "There used to be a heartbeat in there"

"What did you say honey?" the tech looked up from the screen.

I raised my voice as the tears continued to stream down my face, "There used to be a baby in there and I killed it, I lay there and I let them kill it, and now it's gone and its my fault." My words poured out at full speed, running into one another like a pileup on an interstate.

Shame regret and sadness flooded my body.

I couldn't believe I'd said that. I instantly felt guilt for releasing my pain on this poor unsuspecting tech. She was just trying to do her job. She hadn't signed up for this. 

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, returning my voice to a whisper. "I didn't mean to yell. It's just...hard you know?"

The silence returned. This time it was her turn not to respond to me. 

She finished up the exam, removed the wand, and announced "I sent the results to the doctor. She will review the images and let you know what the next steps will be."

She opened the door and the light from the hallway flooded the room. I was finally able to clearly see the woman who'd witnessed one the lowest moments of my life.

Her skin was pale and worn with the exception of the bright red rouge that decorated her cheeks. Her blue eyes seemed to house both empathy and the kind of understanding that only comes from experience. 

She came over, put her hand on my shoulder and said, "I hope you feel better soon, and I hope you're able to forgive yourself."

Upon returning to my room in the ER, I would meet with a team of doctors who would explain to me that the abortion procedure I'd undergone two weeks prior had not been done properly. There were "pieces of the fetus left inside of me" and my body was fighting to expel what was left of the pregnancy. I would have to undergo emergency surgery to stop the bleeding and retrieve what was left of "the fetus"

I often think back to that night in the Emergency Room. The nurses and doctors worked so hard to heal my body and save my womb. For them I will be forever grateful. But nothing will ever compare to the gratitude I feel for the tech who gave me the wisdom I would need to heal my soul.

Forgiveness is a tricky thing. Extending it to ourselves is even harder. I share this story to encourage you to say "never mind" to the part of yourself that seeks to add to your pain by punishing yourself. We are all doing the best we can, and we all deserve the compassion we extend to others.