At His Mercy

40- Ayah

5 years ago. . .
I'm walking to class, rushing to the PBL session, when I feel the first sharp cramp. It stops me on my tracks. I lean against the wall on my forearm and breath through the pain. The full on Denial phase im going through is helping me to get through the day, week, month. . . . It had been two weeks already -that puts me at 14 weeks!
I'm going to speak to Adam.. I'm going to try and contact him. . . He needs to know. . . even if we're not together anymore. . . .he should be part of any decision..... I don't want to make any decision on my own. I've spoken to the gp, had time to reflect on how I'm going to do things. I've got the address of Adam's parents house in Lahore, his uni email address, and his mobile number. The last two were no longer working. The emails bounced back and the phone seems to have been disconnected. That leaves only 1 option. I need to write to him.
How many times have I drafted the letter? Sometimes keeping the information brief and vague in the hope that his contacting me back would tell me everything I needed to know about his views on our future , or perhaps it's fear- not wanting to force him to return. He'll resent me for it and that's the last thing I want or need.
Even now, I am uncertain myself about how i feel. Sometimes I am riddled with shame: how could we have let this happen? All that hard work and now I'd have to give it all up. What would I tell my mother? No husband and no future career? I couldn't bare the thought of her disappointment in me. And then there is the actual embarrassment of the whole situation- pregnant at 19! What a cliche! The shame!
Adam's gone. Left without a backward glance. What if he just doesn't care? Refuses to have anything to do with me? Suggest I terminate? which is impossible. He might think I left it late on purpose! That would be the ultimate humiliation, being accused of entrapment.
With exams looming, I've convinced myself to wait till they're over to write the letter to Adam. Then I can decide without the stress of the exams how I will proceed. What's another 2 weeks?
But the decision doesn't last long. It's mid-morning when the bleeding starts.
Calmly, I made my way to A and E. Waited to see the doctor, watch him do the ultra sound and sit numb in that sterile cell only to be told there is no heartbeat.
For the next few weeks I seem to go from numb to shock to guilt. Did i do this to myself? Killed the life within me from all the stress, sleepless nights and poor diet. Was this the consequence of my own negligence?
I wandered from class to class like ghost. Vacant. Lost.
My GP recommended counselling and prescribed some non addictive sleeping pills to help me get some much needed rest as a starting point. Nothing helped fill the hole inside me. Was I grieving for myself or the baby who was the last symbol of our marriage? Either way I was wallowing in self pity? All that angst was suddenly replaced with a sadness. It was over. Maybe on some subliminal level I had let myself believe that Adam would come back. That this life would bring us together again. Or even if it didn't, perhaps it was something that would take away the loneliness. Something good to make my happiness last a little longer even if Adam wasn't part of it anymore.
The GP sent a covering letter to the university to help me defer the exams to the summer term- under special circumstances- but after some special mentor meetings with my assigned tutor, i was given the option to repeat the year. A fresh start, with a new cohort. I took it- after all, it gave me the chance for some respite and time to regroup. With my family history, medical and social circumstances, it seemed that the university-and one particular tutor- didn't want me to give up. Sometimes God sends angels down when you least expect them.
Getting back on track was a little easier. Slowly, slowly I seemed to come out of the darkness. Thaw from autopilot. Often I would run into my old study group around campus and the Stopford building, they would look at me with a mixture of pity and sadness. Perhaps I reminded them of the friend they'd lost: Adam.
In time I became part of another study group, had other classes but could never quite bring myself to forget the time I'd spent with Adam or the hopes we'd shared. I couldn't bring myself to sit in the library on the top floor for a while and then when I finally did, I would avoid looking at the spot where we had sat together. Then one day I did and I swear I saw him just sitting there with pen in his mouth flicking the pages. It hurt. That's the only way to describe the aching sensation in my chest. Avoiding them helped but it was hopeless. I couldn't just avoid lecture halls or tutorial rooms or whole Buildings like the library. The memories of Adam were constant retribution: the barbs had buried themselves painfully into my heart. Refusing to let go.
The letter to Adam remained unwritten. Perhaps there was nothing left to say.