“I’ve started bleeding.”
No. He shook his head, trying to remember what the doctor said. “It doesn’t mean it’s a…” His throat clamped. He couldn’t get the word out, couldn’t go back to before.
Sarah peeked at him. “Dan, it’s serious.”
No.No.Why was she telling him now? How long had this been happening for? “We can go to the hospital.” He stood. He needed to do something. But Sarah just sat there, her green eyes glimmering with tears, gently shaking her head.
“It’s no use. I’ve seen…” Her voice broke, she hunched over and put her head in her hands.
No, God. No.
His chest cracked open with a now-familiar kind of ache, one that threatened to swallow him whole. Emotion pricked then welled, from the seemingly never-ending well of grief that existed just below the surface of his soul these days.
He slowly moved to wrap her in his arms. Her tears were all the proof he needed. God had let them down. Again.
This had to be a nightmare.Who stuck screaming infants and happy round-bellied pregnant people in the same waiting room as a couple who’d made an emergency appointment because they feared a miscarriage? What kind of insensitive jerks ran this place? Ever since they’d arrived at the medical center an hour ago, he’d tried to blot out the little kids, tried to blot out the people living their best lives, all of them oblivious to the couple whose lives had likely shattered. They might be unaware, but he’d noticed a few people sneak looks at them. He hunched down, a baseball cap pulled low on his head, doing his best to hide his face. This was no time to be recognized.
Sarah, too, seemed determined to act like normal, flicking through a few dumb magazines even as her tears wouldn’t stop falling. He’d cried with her this morning, but had to be brave now for her sake. He’d phoned the club, his voice breaking as he briefly explained his need to be absent for a few days to take care of a family emergency. The Leafs had a must-win game, but when he’d explained about the miscarriage, he was told to take as much time as needed. That was something at least.
But hockey seemed pointless. Not compared to helping his wife in this moment. He grasped her hand again, gripping it tighter, wishing he could infuse what little strength he had to her.
“Shh, Princess. It’s gonna be okay.” Not today, or tomorrow, not even next month. Maybe never. Not if this really was another miscarriage. A tiny part of him still clung to hope; it wasn’t officially over until the doctor said so. God was supposed to work miracles, wasn’t He? God could still make this baby live. Even if He had let the others die. But Dan knew he had to say the words, for her sake, even if he wasn’t sure if he believed them. Not anymore.
“Mommy?” A little boy poked his pregnant mother.
Why did that family get two when they couldn’t even have one?
The little boy pointed at Sarah. “Why is that lady crying?”
Sarah ducked her head as the mom murmured something. Dan shifted to screen Sarah, to give her more privacy, even as he burned with frustration. Why the heck were they still out here? Hadn’t he explained this was an emergency? What was wrong with the people who ran this place?God, help us!
“Sarah Walton?”
Finally. Dan wrapped an arm around her and helped her stand. His heart wrenched in fresh sympathy. For all the grief he felt, she was feeling it too, only it was actually happening inside her body. She’d continued to cramp throughout the morning, and the mild gasps signified pain that was hers alone. He picked up her bag and coat, then reached out for her hand, and they followed the nurse like lambs to the slaughter.
Once seated, Dr. McKinnon leaned over the desk and began a gentle interrogation about the last twenty-four hours. Dan sat silent. So much of what Sarah was saying was news to him. Why hadn’t she told him earlier? They might’ve gotten here sooner, found something to save the baby. The doctor made notes, took another blood sample, nodded, felt around her stomach area, checked Sarah’s latest clotted pad, then sent them off for another ultrasound. Yet another hour later—this time speedily processed by a silent sonographer who’d looked at them with sad eyes—and they were back in the office.
Dr. McKinnon looked over the results, pursing his lips, before glancing up at them. “I’m sorry, but this confirms it. You have lost this one too. I’m sorry.”
Dan blinked back the burn of tears, gripping Sarah’s hand, more for his sake than hers. “Is…was there any reason why this happened?”
Sarah stiffened, like she thought he might be blaming her. Man, he didn’t want that. “Sar, I’m not—”
“No. We all knew from the start that the hCG levels weren’t high, and that like the last times, that miscarriage was a risk.” He studied Sarah seriously as she wiped away tears. “Chromosomal abnormalities cause about fifty percent of all miscarriages in the first trimester, and nobody knows why, so this is not your fault. There was nothing you did wrong, and nothing you could have done.” He glanced at Dan. “Nothing.”
Dan dipped his chin, tightening his hold on Sarah’s hand, even as he felt a ping of relief. Since the last two miscarriages, he’d read up on some of the causes, and while much of a miscarriage seemed shrouded in mystery, there were always some anecdotal studies or myths that suggested certain things were triggers, like stress, or exercise or lifting things. Helplessness washed over him to be the one unable to do anything but watch his wife go through this.
“Sarah, I’m going to schedule you for an immediate D&C, and with your permission, we’ll test any tissue for chromosome irregularities.”
Tissue? Their child was now tissue?
“Have you had anything to eat or drink in the past seven hours?”
As Sarah shook her head, Dan listened as the doctor explained what would happen over the next few days and weeks. The previous miscarriages had resolved naturally, not requiring any medical intervention, nothing like the horror awaiting her. How could a child be scraped from a womb? It seemed so barbaric. The doctor finally packed them off with his deepest sympathies.
Later that day, as Sarah finally awoke from the anesthesia, Dan took her hand, smoothing her hair as her eyes filled with tears. He so loved this woman; he’d hated today, feeling so helpless, watching as she suffered and being unable to relieve a single part.
“Hey, Sar Bear.”
