The hardest time of the day for me has been those lonely hours of the early, early mornings. It’s usually because that’s when I awake from some terrible dream of one kind or another. This past sleep was far from the exception. I wish I could have called it a dream, but it was a classic nightmare.
Mr. DD and I were at some social function and I went into the bathroom. There was blood. Not just spotting. Red, not pink or brown. I made Mr. DD offer an excuse and we left in a rush to sit in the car while I tried to call my OB. First I couldn’t remember the number so we drove to the clinic, which was closed, but the number was on the sign. I tried to dial but my fingers kept hitting the wrong keys and I redialed and redialed over and over again.
Then I finally dialed the right number, but there was no machine; no answering service. I tried pushing 0 to get an operator. Nothing. Then I tried to call my RE but the number had been changed because Dr. Blinksalot was no longer at the clinic. I could feel more blood.
I asked Mr. DD if he knew where the OB lived and we would go there. I didn’t care if we were interrupting his personal time or space.
The last thing I remember is driving towards the doctor’s house…
…and then I woke up.
I was alone in bed. Mr. DD had moved to the spare bedroom a couple hours earlier because he was snoring. I was shaking and sweating so I threw off the covers to cool down. My hands reached to protectively cover my abdomen and it felt strangely flat and I felt a flush of anxiety wash over me again.
There’s a dark pit inside my head and I deeply fear the worst and yet I know the worst thing I can do right now is fear.