On Friday E and I spent our evening in the emergency department in the city of Wyoming, MN. The place doesn't have a great reputation with her family, but nonetheless we were there and hopeful, and scared, and excited, and afraid.
Her sister texted me "hurry! ultrasound in here now." around 5:30. We switched out, and I ran down the hall with excitement and a little bit of worry. I got to watch the doctor place goo on the little ultrasound paddle and press into her lower abdomen. And he showed us where the baby was developing and said that everything looked right except it might be too early, because he didn't see an embryo.
So we waited another hour, and she was rolled into another room and a lady took a thousand pictures, and wouldn't tell us what she was doing. And then we waited another half an hour or more. E had a headache, she was getting impatient and crabby. The staff were very nice, but no one was coming to visit.
Around 8 or 8:30 the doctor came back in. He said they couldn't detect a heart beat and so, either the pregnancy is earlier in development than it should be, or she will miscarry. Come back in 3-5 days. He was actually very reassuring, validating of a number of worries, no judgments, but realistic... it reminded me of the conversation E and I had with a client and her mother earlier in the day, though with a different outcome.
One of our favorite clients was told she would be discharged from the program for safety and staffing reasons. She walked across the hall and harmed herself. We attended to her. My alarm was already on high, and my chest ached. In the midst of this, E fainted, and a terror I haven't experienced in a long time set in. I literally and figuratively felt pulled in two directions. E reassured me she was ok. We got our student the help she needed, and I raced through the halls looking for E. She was sitting, growing less pale, and more herself, but I couldn't let go of the panic. I just stared, waiting for some sign of reassurance, that came in waves... but ultimately didn't stop until sometime around midnight or 1 am, when I sat in bed next to her crying. When I walked into her living area crying, when I surrendered to my helplessness. And the ache in my chest let up, though I have continued to experience these waves of sadness.
We don't know the outcome of this particular pregnancy. Plans and plans and plans, juggling... There are things that are still in motion regardless: I have to write an email to the parents of my students and let them know I am leaving. I have my normal work stuff to do, plus some. I have other students I need to see to graduation or discharge. I have an apartment to find and rent. I have stuff to pack. I have a trip to plan. I have insurance to find. A new job to apply and get. All these things regardless, and now there is a new grief to sit with.
E needs support right now. I have friends who need support right now. I have laundry and dishes to do. I have people to text back because I haven't responded...
I have an amazing girlfriend who reminds me to sit with my feelings and not apologize for them, reminds me I am human and I don't have to live up to some ridiculous expectation, or hold everything for everyone else. I feel very loved and grateful. I worry she is holding too much for me.
I am also worried I am not enough.
But even though the odds aren't in our favor, I spent some time this morning envisioning this baby, this child growing up, thinking it will be a wild and dramatic kid who plays with everyone's hearts. Allows them to feel the highs and lows, the hopes and excitement, the terror and heartache. And I'd be so happy to be their father.
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