I have just came home from a 36 hour hospital stay with my one year old son. He is doing much better now but due to breathing issues, he had to be admitted yesterday morning for treatment and observation. As the evening nurse was going through our discharge orders, I had a memory from being discharged from that same hospital myself after multiple D&C procedures.

Back then, going over the orders through the haze of barely wearing off drugs and painful emotions I initialed every little line and signed and dated the forms at the bottom. On my copy that I was allowed to bring home, I diligently wrote down dosages, times taken, pain level and flow heaviness. There weren't any spaces to record my feelings at those times but if there would have been an extra line or two, I imagined adding "devastated" and "empty" next to every entry in my imaginary chart. Once a record keeper, always a record keeper.

Recovery was horrid and slow. Infections and repeat procedures and other mishaps dragging it on and on. The emotional recovery was non existent with crying every day. But little by little, I felt myself coming around. Facing the world again.

Only to be knocked down with the opening of the mailbox on a daily basis for over 2 weeks. Greeting me were the lovely medical bills that I was required to pay to have my child scraped away from me. To pay every one entity involved with the procedures and no one came cheap.

The medical bills all got paid, but to relive the experience as I made payment arrangements, then wrote checks for months did nothing to bolster my spirits towards positive fertility. It felt so degrading to pay these bills for services that I never would have wanted. Adding the insult of depleted bank accounts to a bankrupt and injured uterus. I believe that at some point, there should be a fund for miscarried parents where these bills can be absorbed. So the couple can move on freely to their next family creation. Maybe when I win my next billion dollar lottery.