Alone in her sterile room. Only moments ago the doctor and her nurse had left her there on the table.
They were pretty nonchalant about it all.
You might have some bleeding and discomfort for awhile. Expect some cramping.
“You were lucky”, she thought to herself.
That was a close call and she didn’t need anything attaching to her for the rest of her life.
She never wanted children. It was an instant choice.
Pro-life. Her life. It mattered to her to live it the way she wanted to live it.
All the ones out there spouting about keeping the fetuses alive were anti-choice. They didn’t get what a big deal it was to bring another human into the world and handle that kind of responsibility.
Or maybe they did. And then they didn’t know her. It wasn’t something she was designed to do.
Never a mother. Never mothered. Never bothered, with taking care of someone else.
Other than herself.
She felt her heart slow down to an almost imperceptible beat.
The room was quiet, bright, and hysterically white. It smelled of disinfectant.
She saw swabs on the counter, generic art on the walls, her legs still spread wide under the thin gown while she laid her head back down on the butcher paper.
Alone.
She looked at the popcorn ceiling.
Alone.
No, this was less than.
Never a mother. Never mothered. Never bothered with taking care of anything.
Not even herself.
Just lonely.