Today is the last full day I will be pregnant. On the surface, it’s just like any other day: I got up, went to school, and worked a bit. I will spend some time with the kiddos. I will watch television and fall asleep after reading for a bit. The only difference is that, tomorrow, when I wake up, the first thing on the agenda will be my abortion. That, of course, makes everything different.

3:36pm — D. calls, he asks how I’m doing, we chat for a bit, he says he can’t see me tonight or tomorrow but wants to drive me on Tuesday. I say that I’m not sure how I feel about him coming on Tuesday, since he hasn’t really “been there” for me. An argument ensues, he reminds me of the supposedly “mean and horrible things” I said on the phone last week (when we were talking about privacy issues), and then he hangs up.

The following text message storm ensues:

Me: That’s really crummy for you to just hang up on me like that.

D: You’re not making it easy to talk to you. I’m tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough. I’m tired of it all and I give up.

Me: I don’t know where any of that comes from other than you. Those are your words, not mine. What doesn’t help is you hanging up and otherwise disappearing every time things don’t go the way you want them to go. What am I supposed to do right now? Sit here and pretend everything is okay and I haven’t just spent most of the past week alone? I don’t know what you expect, but it seems unfair.

D: Like I said, I give up. You don’t want me there on Tuesday? Fine. Your things will be waiting for you when you get back.

Me: I said I didn’t know yet. You’re being unreasonable. You won’t even talk to me like an adult, but you expect me to be comfortable with you there? You need to understand how difficult that is.

D: Fuck you, A. I understand plenty.

Me: Oh just stop. That’s the way I deserve to be treated? Give me a break.

D: That entire text was uncalled for on my end. Take care.

Me: I wish you would just stop worrying about past mistakes and supposed expectations and just BE the caring person we both know you are.

D: That is something you needn’t concern yourself with anymore.

Me:

And so I’m left, once again, alone. I’m not quite sure what to do, other than to stop fighting. It’s not worth it anymore.

Spent the day (9am-9pm) in the hospital, ending with the resident wanting to admit me because my nausea wasn’t getting any better, an opinion overruled by the attending physician, who was concerned my student health insurance wouldn’t cover the cost. So I was out of the street, rehydrated but no less nauseated, left to depend on Compazine suppositories because the student pharmacy isn’t open on the weekend for me to get Reglan or Zofran.

And, of course, texting D. throughout, him wondering what’s going on. He called after I’d already gone to bed and I didn’t even hear the phone vibrate. Ah, well.