this is some shit. please don’t excuse my language. please hear it. listen. deeply. this is my life right now, my very present reality. and i don’t give a rat’s ass if you judge me.

you try responding to this question: “Can you tell me in a word of phrase what the doctor will be doing in your surgery tomorrow?”

you try telling the really sweet southern lady on the other side of the phone, the one who’s probably sitting at a desk in the hospital reception area, “He’s going to remove the fetus.”

try it. it stinks. it slaps your face and tells you that the worst thing you could ever experience thus far in life has indeed taken place and there’s nothing you can do about it. and the absence of nausea is a sure sign that it really is over. i am not on track to become a full-fledged mother on September 6.

i was on the verge of tears at least twice as we talked, as she described the steps i’ll take in the morning and how i need to shower tonight and tomorrow morning with an anti-bacterial soap.

another huge moment was, “Do you have a medical living will?”

huh? what? what the hell? there’s a chance i’ll die?

those are the thoughts that immediately shot through my head but i responded with, “Yes…so is that standard procedure?” and she assured me that it was for surgery which, sorry docs, made me that much more skeptical of modern medicine. i know y’all do a lot of good work but i wasn’t expecting that something could go SO wrong with this procedure that i could die. nope. wasn’t expecting that reality check. wasn’t expecting to have to tell my husband this bit of news that, in light of the reason for this, will obviously increase his pain. i’d rather you have me sign a slip of paper that simply asks me to check this box if i want to be resuscitated or this one if i don’t, or this one if i’d like for my next of kin to decide. can we please keep it simple? checking boxes is so much better than asking my husband where our copy of the will is…

this is some shit.

and yes, for all you Jesus-believers out there, i do believe in Jesus and i do believe that he’s here by my side as i throw bad words around in anger. and i do believe that he’ll be with me through everything else today and tomorrow and the next day. and i do believe that he can give me a peace unlike any other. i do. and yet right now i’m as mad as hell and i refuse to apologize. i refuse to act as if nothing has happened. i refuse to shove my emotions into the ground. i refuse to join the silence on pain, on loss, on grief. i refuse.

i’ve been through loss before. nothing like this but i know what out-of-control feels like and i know what sudden changes in emotion feel like and i know that so many wear masks because it’s not “honorable” or “christian” to speak the truth.

this world is a mess. and while in this mess, i will honor my emotions, all of them. and i pray to God that someone out there is somehow encouraged to honor theirs.