(this is not fiction. Oh, how I wish this were fiction)
Friday, 6:15am. My son is asleep beside me. Downstairs I hear my husband getting ready to leave for work. I get up to pee. The toilet paper comes away with blood. I’m five weeks pregnant. I decide that this is not happening. A smear of blood, and a small gray bump. Something gray. Spotting. And something gray. I focus on the spotting. I decide I didn’t see something gray. Flush it down.
More blood. Bright red.Click here to continue reading...
Dispatches from Utopia is a guest blogger for Bridges.