Tonight my stomach went to my mouth, literally as I sat by my computer talking to my sisters big sister. I send a message to her now and again saying hi and how are you. Tonight's response was scary, she was having possible complications and was in an ambulance. I was shocked, stunned and trying to run through my head what to say because my brain was just saying "oh fuck no, not yours too!"
I made sure to skirt my all time loathed line of "it will be okay" and "don't worry". I really tried to say the right thing, like "expect these monitors", "I know its scary", and "you are in an ambulance, you are under good care and doing everything you can" sort of stuff. I know it wasn't all that comforting but I cant make a stupid fufu promise that could be a lie.
While the messages stopped and she was being checked out, I mentally relived my loss over an over as my daughter kicked me while snuggling into the crook in my arm. My brain went through the timeline of how much time each thing took from being told my son had died to the blood work and ultrasounds that followed.
I was glued to my computer, impatiently waiting; praying that she didn't join this exclusive club of bereaved mothers (and I am not religious, but on the off chance, I am not above a simple prayer).
It seemed like a century to hear back- her baby was fine. but my brain was still in fear mode, comfort mode and above all protection mode. I sat on the couch wondering how many of my friends felt the same devastation and and reminiscence when they heard of our loss. I am pretty sure all of the other mothers who are members of our little club must have.
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