Thread by @VileVioletkitty

I've shared this with others over the years:

I had a miscarriage in 2010. I had zero say over my own body & nearly bled to death over a cluster of cells w/a heartbeat in a Catholic-run hospital. It was disgusting how the nurses & doctors treated the situation.

Months earlier, I found I was pregnant, went to PP to get it taken care of early, and was told that it was benign; No procedure was needed because "the preganancy had terminated itself, and all that was left was a gestational sac." They were wrong, I just went too early.

A few months later, I went back about my normal life partying, working outside in the winter, taking anti-depressants, etc. I had gotten my period, but it was super light and only lasted a day or two each month.

Then, in late December, I got my period, and it was very heavy.

I started to bleed uncontrollably. The pain was white-hot. I called my mom, let her know what had happened, and said that I might have a uterine infection. Since I was under my parents insurance at the time, I let her know I was going to call my GP and figure out what's happening

We booked an ultrasound at Westlake Hospital the next day. The only Hospital the insurance allowed me to go to.

The ultrasound tech was training a girl. I told her what happened: How I was pregnant, went to get an abortion, was told I wasn't pregnant anymore, and now here I was

The tech then shouted, "You're PREGNANT!!!" My mom cried, "She is?! It's my grandbaby??!" the tech replied, "Yes!! You're pregnant! Oh my God! It's a miracle!! There's a heartbeat!!"

In shock, and still bleeding, I started to cry.

"Why are you crying? Aren't you happy?" the tech asked

Then she made us listen to the heartbeat. Then she printed out pictures for my mom and I.

"Look! When I push the wand by it, it runs away. Do you see that? It knows you're trying to kill it." Was what she told a sobbing me

She sent us home. I had to sit my mom down & explain to her, slowly, how fucked the whole situation was, how I needed to call PP again and get an abortion. I was bleeding through a tampon ever 15 or so minutes. I was passing clots. I had never experienced that much cramping pain

I called PP, livid. They rescheduled me for the procedure. The morning of it, I woke up in blood.

My boyfriend at the time, freaked out, called my parents. I called PP, they told me to go to the ER if I was in that condition. My parents drove to the city to pick me up

And drove me to the ER at Westlake Hospital in Melrose Park. The ONLY PLACE MY INSURANCE WOULD ALLOW ME TO GO.

I passed clots so big that I collected them in a plastic ziplock bag incase they were the fetus. They weren't. They were just chunks of my uterine wall.

I was brought to a bed. Nurses asked me what happened up until that point. I told them. As soon as I mentioned Planned Parenthood, every single nurses demeanor changed. They became snake-like mean, calling me evil, saying that's what I got for trying to kill my baby.

They were flippant, dismissive, and catty. I was sobbing and the main nurse snapped, "Why are you crying?!" and I said "Because I am in so much pain"

"Well you should have thought of that before"

I was then wheeled to an ultrasound tech (a girl my age)

It was just her and I in the room. She asked me, concerned, what was going on. I told her. She was appalled with her coworkers behavior. She leveled w/me: "I am so sorry. There is still a heartbeat, but it is actively ripping from your uterine wall. You are hemorrhaging."

"And since this hospital is Catholic-funded, because of the heartbeat, they will refuse to give you a D&C. They will call it murder. Even if you wanted to fight it, you'll have to plead your case in front of a panel of priests who will refuse you, so they don't lose funding."

I was wheeled back to my bed. The head nurse stopped the wheelchair and said, "Here, you can do it yourself" and walked out of the room. Leaving me to get myself back into the bed. Every time I moved, blood gushed out of me. I stood up, and it was like a horror movie

I was sobbing, every time I moved, blood and clots gushed out onto the floor. No one came. All of a sudden I heard my mom's voice, "OH MY GOD. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!"

She'd heard my cries from the waiting room, and walked back to find me alone, in a hospital gown, with blood all around on the floor, standing next to the bed. She screamed until the silent nurses came in, got me into the bed, and brought in a mop & bucket to clean it all up.

I demanded to speak to my Gynecologist Dr. Loya (who I absolutely hated) and when she got there, she coldly looked me in the eyes and said, "The baby still has a heartbeat. There is nothing I can do. It's in God's hands, now."

She then sent me off

with big pads (the kind of pee pads you use for dogs) to bleed out on my parents couch. Since I was too sick to go back to my apartment in the city.

It took me several days to pass it, alone, on the toilet at my parents house, around 5am.

I went back to the fucking hospital two more times during that time to get ultrasounds done to see if there was still a heartbeat. There still was. Nothing they could do. Go home and keep trying to pass it.

The morning it happened, I knew. My dad took me to Westlake later that morning, and it was confirmed.

It took me months to recover physically. My body had forever changed. I should have gotten a dialation and curettage on the first day that I was actively miscarrying.

Westlake Hospital lost Catholic funding and closed years later.

Now imagine that, all of that, times 100,000,000. I never wanted another woman to have to go through something of that nature again. The joke's on all of us.

I had ZERO bodily autonomy. Religious beliefs took a front seat to healthcare. Healthcare "providers" had forgotten the oaths that they had sworn to protect others to spew hate and vitriol.

Now look at us.