I am a hideous monster, dragging my feet, back and forth, in the recovery room. With the weight of the heart-monitoring device in the upper left pocket, the hospital gown is sliding off my left shoulder and leaves my breast half shown. I can even see the 13 inches scar on my stomach when I look down.
I feel exposed. I am angry. I hate the ugly gown. Can I have little dignity? If I am hideous inside, do I have to look hideous outside too? I’d rather be naked! The whole world is laughing at my failure and even you, opening your big mouth, having my privacy shown.
Nothing is right, the blood transfusion, the monitors, the hospital bed, the dead baby, and this hideous gown. I am not supposed to be here: I should be home and still be pregnant.
I am mad at the ugly gown. But, deep down, I know it is not really about the gown — It is everything else gone wrong the morning of June 27, 2013.
Writing 201: Finding Your Key Moment
Journey in the Woods 
What a powerful, raw, and honest piece.
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Thank you, Jill, for reading! It has been a difficult journey, to say the least. I am making the best of it! I like your journey in onga onga better. 🙂
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Thank-you so much. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
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I had to come back to add I was very moved by your writing both in this post and on your about page. I wish you the fulfilment you are seeking.
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Thank you, Jill! I hope I will get there!
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Bless you – I hope it felt good to get that anger out. I could feel the anger there. I understand how you feel. Hugs xxx
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Yeah, it helped. I have this thought for a long time. Unless I write about them, they do not get released. It is just my way….
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I know that feeling so well. Thank you for writing such a raw, honest post about your experience, for which I am so sorry.
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Thank you for reading and commenting!
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I get this. I remember being numb in those moments. But if I look back in my mind at the day, I feel anger in that gown. Anger as I go use the restroom and all dignity is stripped bear. For what? I get this. It’s similar to how I look in the mirror now and see the weight that’s never before been there in my life. And I despise those extra rolls. I hate that they are there and I have no baby to show for them. Your honest writing is refreshing. I am often not bold enough to express these deepest and truest of feelings like those you expressed here. I am so very sorry for your loss… as always.
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Thank you, Georgia. I am glad that you can relate. I feel this place (my blog) is the only place I can express myself truly and echo with the others. I found you, didn’t I?
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