up and down and up and down and up again.

The first partial birth abortion I ever witnessed came hours after the first birth I participated in. The same doctor performed both procedures.
~~
The birth was a Cesarean. Dad was in the room. Miraculously to my eyes, the whole procedure was uncomplicated and swift. A baby girl seemingly popped out from mom's lower abdomen, was swaddled and APGAR-ed, and delivered to Dad. Healthy and crying. Cue tears from mom, dad, and the third year medical student.
~~
Later, down in the OR suite, I watched a young woman drift into peaceful unconsciousness under the effects of sevoflurane. Satisfied that she was unconscious, nurses guided her legs into stirrups while preparations were made for a D&C. A machine not unlike a vacuum cleaner was then inserted in through her vagina and into her uterus. For the next seven minutes, the Dr. maneuvered this contraption into all the crevices of her uterus;

"You have to make sure you get every piece... You can't go leaving an arm in there"

When it was finished, he brought me over to a sterile table where the evacuated contents were floating in a metal container not unlike a bread loaf pan. We then sifted through all the pieces to reconstruct the basic skeleton of the fetus. Skull, both arms, both legs... 1 hand... where was the second hand? We passed over bean sized kidneys and a heart... ahh, there it was.

Satisfied that he had not left anything behind, he looked up and studied my face for a minute. I met his gaze.

"Good to see you're not one of those passing out-types"

He said it with a tone of approval; as if by staying stalwart had proven my courage; my readiness to enter into this messy business of doctoring.

But I felt strange as I came to realize my own lack of emotion. I mean, I am the passing out type. And I cry while watching episodes of the Biggest Loser; why now, when I had just witnessed the termination of a potential life, did I feel nothing?

This happened 2 months ago and I still don't know what to make of it.