change · creative writing · domestic violence · Uncategorized

14 Weeks

Writing prompt: This is week 14 of writing for all involved. Write a post about the week. 

She was fourteen weeks pregnant when she finally accepted the fact that her ex was nothing but a disappointment, a dispicable human being who had no decency left in him. And it hurt her like hell to realize how much she gave up for him, how much she put into him, only to realize all he cared about was himself. He surprised her with how selfish he had become, but she understood now that he was this way all along.

Standing outside her car, fumbling for her cellphone, her water broke. A trickling of water down her legs drenching her leggings and creating a small pool on the pavement. No, she gasped. Unlocking her car she sat down and took a breath. She called her doctor as she began the twenty minute drive to his office. Once there, she was pale and shaking, an uncontrollable shake that began to chill her bones. They took her in to the first exam room, quickly undressing and gowning her. A sonogram wasn’t needed. She was fourteen weeks pregnant, in active labor, and there was nothing they could do to save her little boy.
“You’re going to have to deliver him, there is nothing I can do to stop it,” said her doctor, rubbing his palm against her forehead. She didn’t cry. She could barely take a breath. They told her to push, and she did. It only took one push. Out came her baby boy. Two inches, 1.87 ounces. He fit in the palm of her hand. So tiny, and lifeless. She held him in her palm, and cradled him against her chest. He didn’t cry. He didn’t take a breath. Looking down at her precious boy, she wept like she had never wept before. The loss was so devastating, and words can not explain how she was feeling.

Once home, she held the children she had, with tears in her eyes. After a few hours, she called him. He didn’t want to talk. But when he called her back, he didn’t care that they lost their son. All he could do was yell at her about money. About his child support. About his problems. About his circumstances. You see, finally she could see how disgusting of a man he was. And she wanted nothing to do with him.

She needed closure. Complete closure. So she wrote him a letter.

To the father of all the children I was ever blessed with, and all the children I’ve lost,
The best thing you could do for our family is to disappear. You see, I see who you are now. A dispicable, pathetic, disgusting human being who cares nothing for his children or their mother. I never want to see you again. Stay away from my family. All you have done is hurt us with your words and your hands. You’ve hurt us all mentally and physically and this is where it ends. I do not fear you anymore. I do not need you anymore. After losing our baby one would think you would have some empathy. One would think you would care. You don’t, I see that now. All you care for is yourself. You will never change. You will never be a good father, or a good man. The only change you are capable of is becoming more and more of a dead beat dad. Quite the opposite of the picture I have been painting of you. Stay away from us.

And though she never did know if he read it, and never would, she felt a sense of peace. For the first time in over a decade her blinders were off. She saw him. The real him. And for once, she wanted nothing to do with him.

Image result for miscarriage butterfly


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