cry if you want to

My sister has been pregnant recently, but upon entering the second trimester, she received the most horrible news a pregnant woman can receive. The baby had died. It doesn't make sense; entering the second trimester is usually a time of rejoicing because the most likely time for a miscarriage is in the first trimester. She had felt the child move, thought it would be a boy, and was considering the name Leo. And then on the sonogram screen, she saw the little face, but heard no slushy little heartbeat. Because of the lack of the number of doctors who know how to care for such circumstances, she had to travel for appropriate treatment. However, though it is invasive surgery, and the procedure takes 2 days to complete, and the chance of infection is relatively high, she was not admitted to the hospital.

Some dope decided it was an outpatient procedure.

I told Beth she should send the hotel bill to her insurance company. They won't likely pay it, I know, but she should do it out of spite. And she should have ordered blueberry pancakes for breakfast from room service, and sent that bill to her insurance company too.

My friend Jerry has a daughter whose first pregnancy also did not go well. In something like 1 out of 10,000 pregnancies, the baby develops without a brain. When Jerry was telling me the story, he said without thinking at one point, "She had to have an abortion; it was a no-brainer." I didn't notice the joke until Jerry put his hand on his eyes said, "Oh God... I didn't... it's not a joke. I didn't even realize what I was saying."

I talked with my mom today. The evening Beth returned home, she had pain all over her torso, intensified by that vital activity - drawing a breath. At the E.R., they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, so after 8 hours, they sent her home. Great idea, eh? Hmm, duh, we dunno, hope you're not, like, dyin' or sump'n. Bye. She called the doctor who had treated her for the abortion. He said that it could be a rare reaction to the anesthesia they gave her, and that if it got worse, she should go back to the E.R., and have them call him so he could talk them through the treatment.

I asked Mom how Beth was doing. She's messed up. You might expect her to be emotionally messed up, but she is physically messed up too. They're doing lots of tests. Her electrolytes are off, and I don't know what all. Mom said Beth looked pale.

I'm worried. I'm afraid she has some kind of systemic infection.

I was with Beth for the afternoon between the first part of the treatment and the second part. She & her husband couldn't check in to their hotel until 3:00, so we went shopping and we went to a movie. When I looked at her, I knew there were times when we were both aware of what couldn't be put down. But somehow our conversation about it remained mostly technical. We were in a public place, and there was much subtle communication in looks and body language. And she was on drugs for the cramping, and somewhat distant from it. I want to be near her, but I also want to give her as much emotional room as she needs. How do you satisfy that?