So Amelia and April are two of my favorite characters, and I was a little disappointed that there was never a scene where the two discussed the mutual tragedies they had suffered losing their babies. I know there was a brief scene where Amelia thought she was pregnant and was talking to April about how the father died, so to avoid continuity errors, I left the details about Ryan out. Anyway, please enjoy!
The rain was pattering loudly on the window pane. It was an ordinary Seattle day, but April wouldn't have noticed any difference. In her mind, it had been downpouring every moment since her baby took his last breath.
Jackson suggesting that they go to church had made her feel something for almost the first time in months. She knew he was only doing it for her, not because he had come around to sharing her beliefs, but it still had given her a glimmer of hope and peace. However, that had changed abruptly after his next suggestion, which was that they try for another baby. What was he thinking? Was Samuel just something they had tried and failed, that could be erased by another attempt? Sometimes it frustrated her to no end that he was so scientifically driven.
A knock on the door caused her to jump.
Amelia Shepherd stood outside April Kepner's doorway, holding a cardboard box in her hands. Nearly thirty seconds had passed since she knocked, and although she felt frozen in her tracks, she willed herself to lift her fist again and rap on the wood.
After what felt like minutes, the hinges finally squeaked open.
Despite having giving birth recently, April looked thin and wan. She was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie without a stitch of makeup. She looked like a shell of a woman, which jarred Amelia, as she virtually matched the reflection she herself once saw in the mirror.
"Amelia…wh—what are you doing here?"
Amelia's mind went blank. What was she doing here? Jackson, Meredith, and everybody at work had made it adamantly clear that April needed space during this time. The only person who had compelled her to make this trip was her sponsor, and it seemed like the right thing to do in that moment. "I brought muffins."
April studied her quizzically. "I see that…"
"I mean, I don't know if you like them, but I'm not much of a baker, and there's this shop on Madison which makes these pistachio muffins, and I swear they're better than sex-" Amelia cleared her throat. She was a rambler, and she had been working on keeping that in check. "Anyway, I brought you some muffins."
"Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not really up for visitors-"
"Look, I just wanted to say something. And then feel free to kick me out, because I get that being around people is the last thing you want right now."
April had never been sure about Amelia. From the time she had met her, she had seemed promiscuous, uncomfortably outspoken, and the exact opposite of the type of people she had grown up around. Aside from the overconfident "mean girls" she had known in high school. However, something in the other woman's eyes was eerily familiar and empathetic, and April felt overcome to hear her out. "Okay…come in."
Amelia walked through the doorway, and April closed the door behind them. She led them over to the large couch in the lavish apartment. April curled up on the couch, and grabbed a pillow, as if it were a security blanket. She didn't make eye contact with her guest.
After a few moments of silence, Amelia summoned the concentration to say what she came to say. "I'm not going to ask how you are, because I think I already know. I wanted to reach out as soon as everything happened, but…you see, when I meet somebody suffering from addiction, I know what to say. But I've never met anybody else who this has happened to since it happened to me."
Now April's attention was focused on something other than her own grief, and she lifted her head. "Since what happened?"
"What I mean is, I think I know how you're feeling. You're feeling so much pain, you want to be either unconscious or numb. You're also feeling guilt, like you could have done something to change things, despite every ounce of your intellect and everyone in your life telling you otherwise. You also hate everyone around you just for breathing." Amelia stopped speaking when she felt her voice begin to crack.
April hadn't wanted to admit this, as she knew that God wouldn't want her heart to darken with so much anger. "Uh, yeah…that's actually right on point."
Amelia took a deep break, and temporarily gazed at the ceiling, silently asking her Higher Power to give her strength. "Three years, seven months, and eighteen days ago, I gave birth to a little boy. He had anencephaly, which I found out around twenty weeks pregnant, and exactly forty-three minutes later, he was taken to an OR to have his organs harvested." She paused, deciding to not add the additional details about Ryan. That would have to wait for another time.
April let her words sink in. "Amelia…I had no idea."
"I'm not trying to compare our pain, because I know that everyone's is different. I just…I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you." From a distance, Amelia had been able to sense what April was needing and tell others how to act. However, actually confronting it directly was proving to be more difficult. She had not shared the experience of her child's death with anybody other than her colleagues in Los Angeles. Not even her own family.
"Wow…I don't know what to say," April whispered. "I-I feel like I should, but…I just haven't met anyone else who this has happened to." This experience had been so lonely. It was almost overwhelming to consider that she had not been the only woman who had experienced this tragedy.
"And I was terrified…, "Amelia continued, "for the longest time, that I had caused it. I had been doing a lot of drugs at the time…and…oh God." She felt her throat constrict with sobs that she couldn't hold back. She had kept this inside for so long, like a dormant volcano that now felt ready to erupt.
"Amelia…" April reached for some tissues, one for Amelia and herself. She also reached out to touch the other woman's shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. Anencephaly would have happened no matter what. Just like osteogenesis…"
"I know that." Amelia wiped her eyes, and took some deep jagged breaths. "I hope you do to. I'm so sorry...I came here to comfort you." She shook her head, as the tears continued to fall.
"No, no, it's okay…" April said, and genuinely meant it. It felt good to actually be the one doing the comforting rather than constantly receiving it. "I mean, thank you for telling me. What was his name?"
Amelia sniffled, and turned to make eye contact. "Christopher."
April smiled, and noticed that some sunlight was now streaming through the window. "Well, maybe our boys are playing together up in heaven right now."
Amelia wasn't sure what her beliefs regarding the afterlife were, but it was a nice thought. "Yeah," she agreed with a small chuckle. "I'm also sure they're in good hands," she added, thinking about her dad, Ryan, and everyone else she had lost.
April picked up one of the freshly baked muffins, and raised it symbolically. "To Christopher."
Through her tears, Amelia managed a smile, and did the same. "To Samuel."
The women wordlessly bumped their treats together.