I can picture it.
There I am, standing over a porcelain toilet, feeling my stomach turn as I struggle to keep my composure. I can see the vomit entering the water, and the bitter taste of bile fills my mouth. A wave of emptiness washes over me.
This is all my fault. I feel repulsive. I feel like a burden. I am overwhelmed with shame. Am I losing control? What would my daughter Mia think?
I can see it so vividly.
Then, suddenly, I collapse, my body convulsing as if it’s caught in a storm. A seizure. My eyes roll back, darkness enveloping me.
This is my fault. I feel humiliated. I am a burden. I am completely out of control.
Would I lose consciousness? What would happen to Mia?
I can see it.
I awake, drenched in my own blood, warmth radiating through me. The white sheets around me are now stained crimson. I want to scream, to wake my partner, Jake, but no sound escapes my lips. I know the truth: we lost the baby. Miscarriage. I want to shake Jake awake, but the thought of seeing the anguish in his eyes is unbearable.
This is my fault. I must have done something wrong. I feel helpless. My body has betrayed me.
How would we cope? Would we ever tell Mia?
I can see it.
I am driving, and the car speeds up uncontrollably. My foot searches for the brake, but I can’t find it. I’m spiraling out of control.
This is my fault. I was careless. I am foolish. I am out of control.
Who would break the news to Jake? Would Mia forget me if I were gone?
I can see it.
We’re at the playground, and Mia stumbles, falling hard without a sound. I rush to her, panic rising as I scoop her into my arms, only to find she’s bleeding. Tears stream down my cheeks as I scream for help.
This is my fault. I should’ve been more careful. Why did I take her outside?
How could I let this happen? Would she survive?
I can see it.
I turn the corner to find Jake’s feet dangling off the bed, and my heart sinks when he doesn’t respond. I approach him, only to find he’s no longer breathing. His skin is blue, and I feel a scream bubbling up inside me, but no sound emerges. I scream for help, though no one can hear me.