He dug deeper, bringing a sharp pain, and I prepared myself for the afterlife, as I was sure I had just died a brutal, violent death, convinced he had broken through my cervix, my stomach, my skin, and the copper IUD was sticking out of my belly button like an impaled sword, but instead the doctor shouted in triumph and patted the lower half of my stomach in a misguided attempt at comfort. “It’s over!” he declared, snapping his gloves off. I was sobbing, and the doctor was bewildered at our opposing reactions, him joyous, me devastated.
