Thanks to Ming, Michelle and Jeniffer.
Gil
They gave her something to sleep. The nurse says she won't wake until the morning. I'm still not sure what happened exactly, but from what I can gather, she had a miscarriage. I didn't even know she was pregnant, and I seriously doubt that she did either. We've always been so careful.
I intimated that I was her husband, in order to get the information I did receive. I think the doctor bought it. The lead ER nurse, a compact Filipina woman with a tight line of a mouth, didn't believe me. But she didn't argue, either
By the time Kelly found Sara she'd lost a lot of blood and was going in and out of consciousness. The doctors say she's going to be fine.
I've been trying not the think of the baby-our baby. Sara was pregnant, even if only for a brief time, with our child. We certainly weren't ready to have children. Sara has years of school yet to complete and I...
Well, what about me? What if Sara had come to me and told me we were having a baby? While I don't necessarily feel my biological clock ticking, surprisingly, I'm not horrified by the prospect. I have never really seriously considered children. Sure, there was some vague idea that I'd be a father, some day, and lately it has become very clear that it would be with Sara.
Still, that all seemed very far off. After we'd gotten married… If Sara wants to get married? I think she does. I mean, it seems like something Sara would want to do--one day.
I wonder what it felt like. For those few brief moments to know that she was carrying our baby. I lean very close to her. She looks so small and week. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry about...everything," I say.
Her hand tightens around mine for an instant and her delicate brow furrows a little in her sleep. "We'll get through this... I promise."
Sara
When I woke, Gil had fallen asleep on the couch in my room. He'd pulled it up close to the bed; one hand was resting on mine. "Gil," I said. Gil sleeps like a hibernating bear. Once he's out, he's out; snoring and everything. The only thing that can usually rouse him is a call from work.
When I said his name, I was surprised at how small my voice was. It was just a whisper really. I was all set to say his name again, but Gil sat up ramrod straight. His feet hit the little space he'd left between the couch and the bed.
"I'm up," he declared. His hair was all over his head and there was a little bit of sleep in the corners of his eyes. I must have been loopy from the drugs, because I swear I giggled. He just looked so funny. His eyes went all soft when he saw I was awake and I think it was at that moment that I realized why I loved him.
"How do you feel?" he asked running his hand over his beard and blinking quickly.
I thought about that for a bit. I mean I'd just woke up. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Stunned."
He nodded and kissed my forehead. "Of course you are," he murmured as he moved his lips to one of my hands.
I don't know what made me ask him this. I mean, I'm the one in the hospital right? But it seemed to make sense. "What about you?"
He sat back down, still holding my hand and considered that for bit. "I guess I'm the same, honey."
Gil
"The fetus was not viable," The doctor says looking between the two of us. He's pulled a chair by Sara's bed. He looks to be about my age, but his hair is inky black-no gray there. Under his white coat are a pink polo shirt and some khakis. A small silver hoop rests in his left ear, and is slightly covered by shoulder length dreadlocks he's pulled back into a loose ponytail.
His dark, brown eyes are intelligent and cautious.
"Women get pregnant while they're on birth control all the time. Sometimes women are able to carry the fetus to term. However, in my experience, that rarely ever happens. Did you know you were pregnant?" He asks Sara softly, a lilting voice that was incongruous with his wide shoulders and catcher's mitt hands.
Sara gives a little head shake. "No. I thought the cramps were just my period."
The doctor gives a thoughtful nod and offers Sara a small smile. "Some studies suggest that up to 40 percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage."
Sara gives me a shy look that makes me wonder what she's thinking. She stares at our entwined hands for a while without speaking.
"Honey," I say. "If you want me to leave so you can talk to the doctor-"
The offer relaxes the other man. Sara holds my hand tighter and shakes her head. "No. You stay."
"You have questions?" the doctor asks. I am finally able to focus in on the neat black stitching of his doctor's coat. Dr. Raymond Johnson.
Another look at me and she takes a big breath. "How will this affect my ability to have children?"
"Ah," comes the soft voice again. "Of course."
"Yes." Her shoulders relax a bit when she qualifies the answer with, "Some day."
"There's nothing in this episode that suggests any effect on your ability to conceive or carry to term. As I said, this is far more common than many women realize. Most women go on to have healthy, successful pregnancies. And you are still very young."
He shifts, crosses and uncrosses his legs, and gives me the full advantage of his dark brown eyes. "Many partners feel quite helpless when something like this happens. They tend to focus on the woman and her health, without paying close enough attention to their own emotional health. Even when pregnancies aren't planned, it can still be very difficult to deal with the loss."
I don't know what to say about that. He's right of course. Sara is really my only concern. She's the one who lost this child. The one who has been impacted both emotionally and physically. I'm just the guy who got her pregnant, really.
"I know that you've not had time to absorb everything, but do you have someone that you could talk to? It said you were Catholic on the admitting form. Are you comfortable talking to your priest? If not I have several therapists or clergy I could suggest."
Sara and I talk at the same time.
"What about all the blood loss?" I say.
"We have a good priest," she says.
Sara
I love Gil Grissom. Probably going to love him until the day I die. But ever since we got home from the hospital, he's been grating on my nerves. I know exactly what he's doing. He thinks that if he fusses over me, he won't have to deal with his own feelings--his own stuff about me losing the baby.
The doctor tried to talk to him about it, but Gil just volleyed back with more questions about how to take care of me. The doctor was very concerned about how much blood I lost and made me promise to take a week off. Apparently Gil had pulled him aside and told him I was a workaholic. Takes one to know, one right?
Gil promised he'd keep an eye on me, so they only kept me that one night. He's staying true to his word, I tell you. If he has to leave for more than a few hours, he sends Marg or Kelly over here to spy; which they are only too happy to do.
He's got the entire bedroom set up so that all I have to do is get up to go to the bathroom. He's set up a microwave and a fridge beside the bed, along with a book case. I literally have no excuse to move from this spot. Luckily, he got called away, Marg is at work and Kelly had study group. So, in theory, I could break into my own personal Tom Cruise inspired dance. But, honestly, I am just too tired. I am worn out and I do need the rest.
I also need to process this whole "losing my baby thing." That's what it was to me, even though I didn't know about it. It wasn't a fetus. It was my baby: our baby. I think Gil feels the same way. But he's spent so much time fluffing my pillow and feeling my forehead and taking my pulse that he hasn't had a chance to deal with it.
I'm going to let him have about 24 more hours of this, but after that he's going to have to look me in the eye and talk about our baby and how he feels -- about everything. We've got to deal with this Alana thing. I'm not sure if now is the time to bring that up. We've got one problem after another.
We will get through it.
The phone rings and I pick it up. A familiar, gravely voice comes through the other side. "Sara. It's Jim. I've got a key and I just wanted to let you know I'm coming in."
A jangle of keys and ten footsteps later there's a soft knock on the door frame. "Are you decent?" Jim says from somewhere in the hall.
"Not recently. But I am dressed."
He walks into the room dressed in a well cut suit. He's a small guy and his suit just looks awfully cute to me. I can't help but smile. He's holding a huge pizza box and it's at that moment that I realize just how hungry I am. The smell of cheese, fennel seed, and red sauce instantly fills the room.
He gives me a quick once over; his cop's eyes recording my condition for the report back to Big Brother. "I see we are wearing yet another fetching set of pajamas..." He smiles gently as he sets the box on the top of the microwave and takes in my greens silk PJs that Gil brought to the hospital.
I give a playful groan. "If I'd know you were coming, I'd have added my fuzzy slippers."
"If you'd known I was coming, you'd have told me not to." He shoots back. "Not that I would've listened."
"Probably," I concede. Jim leaves for several minutes returning with two plates and napkins.
"I got half cheese and half pepperoni. I assume you have beverages in the kitchenette." He nods to the microwave and refrigerator.
"But of course."
He pulls a soda from the fridge and piles three slices on my plate. We eat quietly for a time as Jim flips through the TV channels. Eventually, we agree on a History Channel documentary about General Sherman.
I cut my eyes towards Jim a few times wondering if I should talk to him about Gil. After I've worked my way through my second slice, I decide to give it a shot.
"Um, Jim?"
"Yeah, Doll?
"Did Gil tell you what happened?"
He gives me his full attention then. His face isn't a cop face but a Dad face, and not for the first time I wonder what the hell is wrong with Ellie Brass.
"Yeah, he did. I won't ask if you are okay, because that's a stupid question."
"Yeah," I agree. "Gil's not...talking about it."
Brass shrugs and puts his plate down on the bedside table. "You know how he is. If he can't fix it, he's going to control it. You know how us guys are." It's almost like he can sense my nervousness when he adds, "He's very upset. You know that, right?"
I think about that for a second. "Yeah, I guess I do. I just wish he'd say something."
"He just wants to make sure you're okay. Give him a little time." He puts down the plate and bites his bottom lip. "When something like this happens to your wife or girlfriend, you kinda don't think you have a right to grieve or feel bad for yourself. But he'll get around to it. Just give him some time and keep him honest. You know what to do, kid. He's your guy, and you both know how to take care of each other."
I don't know what makes me say the next thing that comes to mind, because it really might be offensive to Jim. "All this attention is overwhelming; everyone in and out of here. I'm just not used to having so many people around."
Brass shifts in the leather chair that no one else ever sits in. "I know." He pats my knee. "There was a time it would have driven me nuts, too. But you do realize that it's better to have too many people than not enough, right?"
I bite into the warm slice of my pizza and nod.
Brass does the same and I barely hear his next words. "That's what being a family is all about, Doll."
TBC