Her Pain, His Blindness

aking me gasp and curl into a ball. I reached out a hand, searching for the familiar warmth of my

partment, a space I had designed with so much love, felt vast and hollow. The pain came in another wave, eve

ng for a baby, and a sliver of fear, sharp and cold, shot through me. The phone ra

n's voice, soft and a

me talk to him," I said,

f annoyance in her tone. "Mark is busy. Elea

recently returned to the country for pancreatic cance

mergency," I gritted out, clutching m

hild crying wolf. "Sarah, you know how sick my mom is. We can't be distr

ound. I tried calling back immediately, but it went straight to Mark's voicemail. He had turned his phone off or silen

lid off the bed, my legs nearly buckling. Every movement was agony. I crawled across the cold hardwood floor, my

r emergency?" a

ng," I whispered, the

oked down at me after a quick ultrasound. "You have a ruptured ectopic pregnancy," he said,

uched my arm. "Is there anyone w

my voice cracking.

blur. I saw the line for the patient's signature and, with a hand that shook uncontrollably, I signed my name. Sarah Miller. Alone. No one was

e sharp pain had been. The first thing I did was reach for my phone. My fingers

ce was clipped, filled with an e

oice hoarse from the intuba

rantic voice in the background. "Mark, co

his attention already gone. "We can

p. Just l

l hometown. We survived a long-distance relationship through college, his in California, mine in New York. We had built this life together. And now, after I had just lost our baby and nearly