Title: If Only… But Still….
Author: Rorie
Feedback and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is always gratefully welcomed. Flames, on the other hand, will be stored in a special container so that I can cut my heating bills this winter.
Distribution/Archival Information: Ask first please…
Spoilers: "Beyond Repair"
Rating: PG-13 for language
Classification: V, A
Keywords: 1st person POV--Abby
Summary: The morning after… thoughts.
Date began and finished: 1-10-2002
Disclaimer: The characters that you'd recognize and the concept of ER are not mine. They belong to NBC, Constant C, Warner Bros., Michael Crichton, and their portrayers. I'm not making any money off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't sue... I'll return them when I'm done... probably in better condition than I found them in (my momma taught me well). Don't complain to me if they get lost in the mail... blame the United States Postal Service.
Author's notes: To my amazing beta, Mer, thanks! Continued at the end…
7:00 and they're at it again; don't they ever give it a rest? Why does she stay with him? Shit, that light is bright!
Dammit, my head hurts! Shit, six years of sobriety out the door over one lousy birthday…
Dammit, my head really hurts! How could I do this to myself? I worked so hard… how could I do this to myself!
Damn him! How could he do this to me? He's getting married; he's going to be a daddy!
He wants kids? Since when?! We never talked about it, he said. Damn straight we never talked about it! If I even looked sideways at baby things in the store, he bolted for the hills or some other enclave of manly men. He wants kids? He says he's wanted them for a while…
Why couldn't he let me in on his little secret? He's going to be a daddy… shit! He could've been a daddy years ago if only he'd told me… if only we'd talked… if only I'd told him… if only…
I could've been a mommy. I could've had a Douglas of my own; someone who whispered secrets in my ear, kissed my cheek, and drew me pictures.
I could've been a mommy. Maybe she would've been a blonde cherub… like the one that Paul Sobriki didn't deserve.
I hope Meryl gets her chance to be a good mother. I pray to God that she didn't wait too long… or didn't screw up her chances because of an accident…
Like I did! I know what she's feeling. I got pregnant, it wasn't planned, he didn't want it… or at least that's what I thought then. I made a choice… it was legal… I thought it was right at the time…
So now, why does it hurt so much? Why are my dreams haunted? Why?
I screwed up my chances. Would I be a good mommy? or would I be Maggie? Would my child be the center of my world? or just an accessory? Would he look like me? or would she look like her daddy?
I don't know… and I never will. I'll never hold a tiny life right after he came from my body… I'll never smell her baby powder, freshly-bathed scent… I'll never…
I'm an OB nurse… I know the risks; I've explained them to many women. But still, they seem so unreal. All you ever hear in the media is how safe it is-- how women have the right to choose; how every child should be a wanted child. I believe that, too. I really do…
But, still…
Why don't you ever hear how much it hurts? Oh, not the physical pain… that can be fixed with drugs. The emotional pain… the kind that prescription drugs can't touch… the kind that self-medicating with booze only covers until you're sober again. How can a choice that seemed so right hurt so much?
Why don't you ever hear about the other pain? The pain in knowing that was your only chance and it's now lost forever?
Like I said, I'm an OB nurse and I know the risks… I also know that most women never suffer these problems.
But what about the ones that do? What about me? Why did I have to be the one with the post-op infection? Why did I have to be the one with the hemorrhaging that wouldn't stop? Why did I have to be the one who will never have a child of my own?
I had to get out of OB. It wasn't Coburn… it was me. Spending each day with happy parents and their new babies was killing me inside…
Dammit, why did yesterday have to be my birthday? Why did I have to remember? Why did he have to tell me then? Why did Carter have to kiss her? Why did Douglas' mother have to die? Why did he have to be ripped from my side? Why did Paul Sobriki have to slip that day? Why did I take that first sip? Why did I have that first beer? Why did…?
I need a drink… I wonder if my new neighbors will stop fighting long enough for me to borrow a beer...?
I need a drink… I wonder if Carter's up, he'd understand…
I NEED A DRINK! Where are my shoes?
When did my life get so out of control… so beyond repair… so f--ed up? If only…
Notes: I know this is disjointed. It came to me that way… the way that your thoughts are first thing in the morning… how they jump from subject to subject before you're totally awake.
I'm sorry if the idea of post-abortion syndrome bothers you… or the fact that the procedure can lead to problems that cause sterility… in this case infection and hemorrhaging that led to a hysterectomy. I'm pro-life, but that's not what influenced my subject. I went by the look on Abby's face when Meryl was talking about her own abortion and how she hoped she didn't ruin her chances for a pregnancy now. It looked to me like Abby knew the feeling…