It’s Schrodinger’s Baby!
A missed miscarriage attended by two dogs at 10,000 feet. Trigger warning and all that.
I decided to do this miscarriage alone, in my RV, beside a lake at 10,000 feet. It seems to be the right setting, nestled in among towering pines, where the only sounds are the alpine winds and birdsong. Some people have honeymoons. Some have babymoons. I’m having myself a miscarriagemoon. Alone.
Well. With my dogs.
They’re the perfect companions in my misfortune, because I lack the energy and will to cope with the burden of human sympathy.
If I have to try to divine the meaning behind the expression on the face of another ultrasound tech as they whirl their wand in my most intimate space…
If I have to listen to one more muffled explanation of basic female anatomy from a man with a white coat and clipboard…
Or witness yet another resident trying hard to convey sorrow through disembodied eyes hovering over a surgical mask…
If I have to explain what’s happening to another friend, especially one with healthy children of her own…
If I have to hear, “I’m so sorry this is happening to you again!” from someone who has never had and never will have a miscarriage…
