I held the envelope that nearly knocked the wind out of me Friday afternoon at about 5:15 pm. I was on cloud nine, just holding the envelope. Hearing the words “the baby’s doing beautifully“ again was music to my ears.
I was so happy.
I walked out of the doctor’s office and almost skipped to the elevator. I felt like the next few hours were going to kill me, and everyone waiting for a response of our baby’s gender.
I clicked the elevator button to send me back on my way downstairs. I couldn’t wait to hold my little boy again. He is just so missable. My blissful spirit was anything but prepared for what was waiting for me in the elevator.
The elevators in that building almost always take three and a half years to get to your floor, even though there are only three floors. But not this time. Almost immediately (or so it seems) they slid open. A young woman in her mid-twenties was hastily trying to cover up what was obviously a horrible day that had her face covered in tears.
My heart sank and I felt guilty for being the one with good news.
I shoved the envelope in my purse and my mind immediately went to that day in my life. I don’t even remember if anyone besides Pete noticed those tears… that face.
I slipped onto the elevator, with hesitation. I mean, those moments- they are so private. But at the same time I didn’t want to make her feel worse by sending her off by herself. As if my presence would make her day any worse.
I am sorry… but you should never have to leave the OB’s office in tears. Was it her OB appointment? Did they just tell her her baby had a genetic disorder? Was she even pregnant? My mind was racing.
That building is filled with nothing but women’s clinics (to my knowledge). Was she told she’d never be able to carry a precious life inside her?
I felt like I needed to hug her. But I didn’t. I glanced to my left, where she was standing and tried to think of something to say.
“Are you alright?”
She almost began to tell me, but she lied. She was far from okay, but she also probably had no idea a stranger might just get her pain. On some level.
How awful that one place can send you off with so much happiness… and another family so much heartache.
We were those people three years ago, after a genetic counselor confirmed that our baby, who we had just found out was a girl hours earlier, could very likely come out with a chromosomal disorder. There were charts, questions and a whole bunch of answers I just don’t remember anymore.
Times like these I wish I had a baseball cap that said “I’ve been there, please don’t be afraid to cry in front of me!!”
Times like these, I will never understand. Times that leave you floored with happiness and heartache all at once.