Talk About An Impact (Part Two)
Something had to be wrong. Pregnant woman don’t usually have cramps like these. Contractions, sure, but not cramps. They were only periodical, so she had to suck it up through the whole class lecture. Part of her yelled at her for not just asking to go to the nurse. But she didn’t want, or need, anybody to know what she was going through. Except, near the end of the lecture, she texted one of her good friends (who was studying to be a doctor) to meet her before lunch.
“What’s up?” They asked, and Lilah wasn’t sure what to say. I’m pregnant and having really bad cramps, and I’m sure they’re not contractions? Take me to the hospital? I’m fucking dying, help me? If she wanted to ask her friend what was wrong with her without the other knowing, she’d have to hide it. “If a woman was pregnant, and started having cramps, what does that mean?” “Oh! We just learned this. Those could be contraptions. Or it could be a miscarriage. They’d know if it’s a miscarriage for sure if they’ve spotted blood. Why do you ask?” Lilah gulped and then shrugged. “Saw it on a trivia question game...thing,” she replied and cleared her throat. “Well, I gotta go. I’ll see you later,” and with that, the two parted ways.
Lilah went to the hospital just to make sure, and her friend was right. She had miscarried, only twelve weeks in her pregnancy. When the doctor told her, she broke down crying, burying her face in her hands. She felt like this was the worst thing that happened to her, and she felt like dying right now. The doctor gave her an apology that they’d probably repeated before, and gave her one of those grief pamphlets. She could barely walk out of the hospital without having to take a break to recollect to herself. And when she got in her car, she just sat there, letting the tears flow out of her eyes and gliding down her cheeks.
Lilah probably sat in the hospital’s parking lot for ten minutes, maybe a little longer, before calming herself down enough to just get her back to the dorms and to her dorm room. She would miss two classes, and lunch, if she stayed here, and that’s what she did. She laid on on the bed, mourning the loss of her unborn child. She didn’t care, at the moment, that she was missing classes, or that she had a plethora of text messages coming in from people she knew. If her roommates asked if she was okay, she would simply dismiss them, telling them that she was fine. No doubt would they later find out that she was pregnant and had a miscarriage from her soon-to-be-a-doctor friend. She really didn’t want to eat anymore, or go out, but if she didn’t, her friends would get worried and probably go through drastic measures just to get her out of her room. Lilah went out of her room from time to time, slowly looking better then she did the first few days of the miscarriage, to eat or just go to her classes. Two months after the miscarriage, she was back to what some would call “normal.” She looked healthy, and she went back to her classes with better focus and didn’t cry as much as before whenever she thought of what had happened. She would be better within time, she knew that.













