Member-only story
The Moment I Became a Feminist
I was 22 and my baby had died inside of my womb. I was five months along so it was a shock but my doctor explained things to me. In my haze of grief all I remember him saying was that 10% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage and he needed to do a “minor” procedure called a D & C to clean out my uterus since my body wasn’t expelling the fetus naturally. And, since it was such a “minor” procedure, he would do it in his office.
A few days later I was sitting in the waiting room of his office waiting to be called to a room. As I sat there, I started bleeding — a lot! I went up to the nurse and told her I was bleeding and she spoke to me in a kind and motherly way, “It’s normal, honey. Your body is starting to reject the fetus which is a good thing.”
“I’m bleeding a lot,” I replied, and she must have seen the panicked look on my face.
“Come with me and I’ll take a look.”
I followed her into a room, disrobed and climbed onto the examination table and felt blood pouring out of me.
Ms. Motherly Nurse screamed, “OH MY GOD!” and ran from the room.
As I lay on the table I thought, “This is it. I’m dying.” It seems like a person should be scared at a time like this but I felt perfectly calm.