My OB was out, so her sub answered my midnight call. Her voice was brash and annoyed. “What?” was all that she asked. I told her about the sharp pain I felt in my side, the spot of blood staining my pants. I told her something felt wrong. She sighed into the phone. “You are not having a miscarriage. Go back to bed.” As I fumbled for words, I heard a Click! She was gone. A few minutes later I stood over the toilet, staring and still, a smear of red in the water, like a lily pad floating away.
M.R. Mandell lives in L.A. with her husband and golden retriever, Chester Blue. She is the author of Don't Worry About Me (Bottlecap Press).