In my last post, I wrote about the clinical description of trauma. Readers in the medical or psychology fields understand what I wrote, but for the rest, it was likely dry and wordy. In this next post, I’m going to write my first hand experience with trauma, personally a miscarriage.
In college, I had a miscarriage. I called the Women’s Community Clinic (the clinic that verified I was pregnant the day before) because I started having my period. The receptionist on the phone told me to go to the E.R. because I could be having a miscarriage. I was shocked, first I was told I was pregnant, and then I was told I’m losing it. I sat on my bed and called my friend, Hello Kitty. The call went to voice mail. After a few minutes, I decided to go to my new friend,Oxnard, to ask her if she would accompany me.
I went to her dorm room and her roommate told me she wasn’t there. I explained to her roommate my situation, and since she was a nursing major, she went to her textbook to see the symptoms. The textbook symptoms validated what the receptionist said on the phone. It was a miscarriage. I saw her other roommate, Muffin, and asked her if she could accompany me, she agreed.
At the E.R., I felt numb. I couldn’t believe I landed in this situation. My friend, Hello Kitty, heard my voice mail, and came to the hospital as quickly as she could. Along with Muffin, she waited with me in the lobby room until my name was called.
I did a blood pressure test, had my blood drawn, and did a pregnancy test. Since I
was bleeding, I had to do another test to see if I was pregnant, and that was an ultrasound. I never had one done before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.
The doctor who did my ultrasound said he couldn’t see anything, and I was sent back to a little room where I waited with Muffin and Hello Kitty. I waited a long time before someone came to tell me my results. A hospital worker finally came and told me what I expected, I lost it.
During my trauma, nothing really mattered except what I was experiencing. The reality of losing it didn’t settle until a few years after. In the grieving process, I stayed numb for a long time because I was distracted with extra curricular activities, school, friends, and work. I was scared of acceptance because acceptance meant experiencing all the dreadful emotions I tried hard to suppress. The thing is feelings always resurface no matter how much someone tries to bottle them.