You couldn't have known

I talked at length yesterday with one of the nurses in the NICU who had lost both of her premature twin daughters. They were born at 22 weeks gestation, both at a little more than a pound. As a nurse charged with caring for tiny preemies, she realized what her babies would be up against. They would most likely grow up blind. They'd have many months of struggle, only to possibly die. So, she decided to not admit them to the NICU, meaning that she and her husband held them as they died, just as Mike and I held Nick as he died. No tubes. No wires. Just a peaceful passing, inasmuch as death can ever be peaceful.

As we anticipate Alex's homecoming within the next week, I think about Nick all the time. It's impossible to avoid considering what it would have been like to bring the two of them home together. I think about how things might have been different had I carried them longer. Would more time in the womb really have saved Nick? It's normal to think this way, I think- but not healthy.

It hasn't helped that, in recent weeks, the subject of my pregnancy has come up several times with strangers or rarely seen acquaintances. Invariably, when I say that my son was born three months early (I always start out implying that I gave birth to just one) and is still in the NICU, the other person asks why I went into premature labor. It's a rude question because, obviously, the answer is going to be horrible. Doesn't matter what the circumstances. When people have medical emergencies such as premature labor, the answer to why is going to be shitty and you are going to end up crying in a supermarket or hotel lobby at a stranger's story.

But, you couldn't have known. It's a baby story. You are curious. She looks so healthy. Is there something to be learned, something useful to yourself in knowing why? Or is it just a formality? Maybe you think the storyteller wants to share her medical calamities and you are simply being polite by opening that door for her. Maybe you kind of see it coming- the train wreck- as the words leave your mouth, but you ask anyway because there is some catharsis for you in hearing horrible things. These are things that happen to other people. That is relieving. Maybe you are in denial. You ask what seems to you an innocent question, even though it is not, and you are truly shocked at the answer because you couldn't have known.