My birthday fell on a Saturday that year so Sunday dinner had been taken over by the birthday party and Sunday we were home just trying to get settled into the house. It was a lot of room and the contents of our tiny apartment didn't go a long way to filling it. We spent a lot of time dreaming of what to do with all the extra space. Joanie was making plans for the room right next to ours. She was debating over paint colors that would work no matter which variety of child we got. She was a little over three months along by then and the morning sickness had finally let up. She was finally eating again and craving fruit, lots and lots of fruit.

That Sunday I was sitting draped across the couch in the living room reading and contemplating heading outside to the porch to read. We'd never had a porch before and I was starting to think about taking advantage of the giant wrap around thing we did have. I didn't know right then exactly where Joanie was in the house and I guess if we'd still been at the apartment I would have. There wasn't much space to get off by yourself for real in that place. Anyway, I heard her come into the room. She wasn't breathing right. You have to remember that we'd been together seven years at that point. We'd been married for near to three of them and had lived together to one extent or another for most of the seven. Joanie had her problems and it paid to recognize things like when her breathing was messed up. It was most often because she was or had been crying.

I turned and was about to say something but anything I might have had to say just froze in my mouth nearly choking me. Tears were streaming down Joanie's face and had been for a while it looked like. Her hands were covered in blood and so were her pants. She was wearing some old faded cutoff jeans that day and the insides of the legs were soaked with blood. She had a towel that she was carrying in her hands the way a ring bearer in some weddings might carry the pillow. She looked at me so helpless. Her mouth was moving and it took me a few seconds to realize she was just saying 'I'm sorry' over and over. I jumped up and got to her as fast as I could and looked at what she held on that bloody towel. It looked like a lot of congealed blood and then there was this thing maybe three inches or so long and I didn't want to think about what that looked like but I sort of had to and I understood. That was our baby. I knew it just as sure as she did.

I put my arms around her and led her upstairs to our bedroom. It took some doing but she finally let me take the towel from her and I got her out of her bloody clothes. Being pregnant, she hadn't bought supplies for her time of the month in a while and there was nothing so I took a hand towel and folded it up inside her panties and then I got a nightgown over her and got her into bed. She calmed a little as long as that bloody towel was where she could see it. I left it on the nightstand and sat next to her and kissed her head. She was still whispering how sorry she was over and over and it was killing me. It wasn't her fault. Women miscarry every day. Even now they do. I didn't really know what to do. The blood wasn't coming so fast or hard that I thought she needed the emergency room and no doctor offices would be open on a Sunday. I did the only thing I knew. I called the family.

I thought about calling Sherry but she was just starting on her little bump and I didn't think Joanie needed to be reminded right then of what she had just lost and I didn't think Sherry needed to see something going so wrong. She was a smart girl and science minded and all. She knew these things could happen but knowing and seeing are very different things. The next thought was to call Emma but then I had an even better thought. I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello."

"Lou?"

"Hey Jimmy," she said and her voice brightened, "What's up?"

"Can you get Theresa or someone to watch the boys? Joanie and I really need you. She, uh, she lost the baby. I'm pretty sure anyway. I ain't sure what to do. She doesn't even have anything in the house for the, um…blood."

"I'll be right there."

It felt a little better than Lou was coming over. She was a ways into nursing school and I think needed maybe a semester more to get a two year degree in it. She'd keep up her schooling even once she had a job working so that she could get the four year degree. Besides, she was a woman. She would know what to do. I had one other thought and dialed that number too.

"Judy," I said into the receiver, "Joanie needs you. Please get here as fast as you can."

Well Judy was a ways behind Lou since she was all the way in Bloomfield Hills but they were both on their way which was all I could do for right then. I went back into our room and just held her until I heard Lou walk into the house. I knew she would just come upstairs and she did. I showed her the towel and what was on it and she just nodded. I had been right. I knew I had all along.

Lou sat next to Joanie and brushed her hair off her face.

"Are you in much pain?"

Joanie shook her head and Lou looked up at me.

"I need a basin of warm water, a washcloth and a towel," she instructed, "I'll also need some fresh panties for her and that bag I brought in with me. Oh yeah…and a belt."

I know I looked confused for a second there about why Joanie needed a belt and then I realized she wasn't talking about a belt like I wore to keep my jeans up. See until about 1970 or so there wasn't no sticky stuff on women's personal items. They had to wear a belt and the pads hooked to that in the front and back. Well, Joanie kept her belts in the same drawer as her panties so that was easy enough.

I brought everything to Lou and watched as she undressed Joanie and cleaned her up, even her hands. She got the pad in place and everything and then tucked her back in under the blankets.

I guess it was about that time that Judy rolled in. She took one look at my sweet Joanie laying there all pale and just staring straight ahead and Lou checking her temperature, I guess to make sure she wasn't getting an infection or something. I know she saw the towel still there. She just sort of slumped against the doorframe shaking her head. She and I knew better than anyone how this would hurt Joanie.

"I have to call Uncle Ira," she said looking panicked. I understood and I should have thought of it too. Our regular doctor might not have been in his office and really I should still have called. Some doctors still made house calls after all. But Uncle Ira was a doctor and he was a real uncle. Gladys had three brothers. Two were older; one was an accountant and the other a newspaper editor in Baltimore. But Ira was the baby and had followed in his father's footsteps right into medicine.

She ducked out of the room and came back a few minutes later.

"He's on his way," she told me, "At least you did call in someone with some medical knowledge."

Then she wrapped her arms around me and allowed herself a few tears.

"I am so sorry this happened. Not just to her but to you too. I know how much you already loved that baby."

She was right, of course. I did love that baby from the second I knew it was there. I was still scared and it's not the same for men as women. I know I've already mentioned that. But I was already seeing things like watching my boy playing in little league and getting him a puppy and don't even look at me like that because I know damned well that babies can be boys or girls. I think men just assume it's a boy until they know different. And that's not for the reasons that women think always either. See a boy we know what we're doing. Even if our own fathers were terrible, we know what we needed to learn even if we had to learn it on our own. We also don't feel like what we got given is so fragile if it's a boy. Silly I know but it's how we think. Girls need more protecting—in our minds—and that's scary and intimidating. Besides, they are so very different. They play dolls and dress up and tea party and take dance classes. Well that's how we see it and especially at that time. Not many girls was playing little league then. It wasn't like it is now.

We heard the doorbell and Judy ran down to let her uncle in. He came up and kicked us all out except for Lou who had done a little of an examination while she was cleaning Joanie up. That meant he didn't have to really examine her. He felt her belly and saw what was on the towel and that—Lou explained to me later—was to see if everything was out of her body. If it doesn't all come out then it can cause her other problems and even make it so she couldn't get pregnant again.

I was standing right outside so when he came out, I nearly pounced on him.

"Is she okay?"

"Joanie will be fine," he said, "She will be sad for a while and she will be sore for a while and she will bleed some for a while. But then she will be alright again. She should rest today but tomorrow she can do what she feels up to." He half smiled at that. "Maybe you should tell her to take it easy tomorrow too. I know Joanie and she will say she feels up to more than she is. She shouldn't have trouble having a child. You can try again in a couple months. Best not to before then, the body needs time to heal."

"Thanks for coming," I told him and I know my eyes must've been all red and stuff but he didn't even bat an eye.

"You're family," was all he said back.

Well Lou stayed a while longer but there was no reason other than to support us. I saw her to the door and she gave me a big hug. When she pulled away there were tears in her eyes.

"Thanks for coming, Lou," I said, "I know you got your own feelings about Joanie and our marriage…"

"Jimmy," she began, "When Kid came up missing and I fell apart, you weren't just there for me but for the kids too. You have never failed me, not once. And you're the only one besides me who really still believes Kid is out there somewhere. If you can believe in him along with me, I can believe in her alongside you."

Tears were flowing down her face and she reached up and put a hand on my cheek.

"I was wrong before anyway. Joanie's a good woman and I guess I learned my lesson that we can't control all the ways life can hurt us or test us. You were right to marry her. You love her and she loves you and you got to hang onto that. It's the only thing worth a damn in this world."

All I could do was nod. She was right and I always knew that truth but occasionally life or God or fate or whatever decides to give you a not so subtle reminder. Lou walked off the porch and to her car and gave me a wave as she drove off. I went back inside and followed my nose to the kitchen where my sister-in-law was making some soup. I peeked into the pot to see matzo balls floating. It was Joanie's favorite soup and what Gladys always made them when they were sick. Judy looked up when I walked into the kitchen.

"She's asleep," she explained, "She has to eat still."

I just stood there. I needed something to do. I looked around restlessly. I wasn't aware that Judy had crossed the room to where I stood until her hand was on my arm.

"You need your rest too," she said softly. "I can handle this. She's going to need you more than me when she wakes up."

I just stared at her like she wasn't speaking words.

"Go upstairs and get some sleep, Jimmy," she ordered. "I'll finish the soup and I have a small errand to run and more phone calls to make than I want to think about. You need sleep. Once she's rested, you know how bad she's going to break. You need your rest."

I just nodded and started to move like I was on auto-pilot or something.

"And Jimmy," she called to me making me turn back to her, "Remember you're broken too. Don't go all tough guy on me. You know better than most that it's not healthy."

I looked at her and she was right. I was looking for things to do to distract from how sad I was. I leaned against the door frame that led to my living room and I cried. I didn't just let a few tears fall and sniffle a little either. I cried, really cried.

"How am I supposed to help her, Jude? I'm hurting just as much."

I slid down the door jamb and just sat on the floor with tears streaming down my face and looking up at her. Judy hurried to me and sat down beside me and held me. She rocked me and held me tight and stroked my hair. It wasn't one of my more attractive moments but the people who really care about you love you even when you're crying so hard your nose is running. I guess I finally kind of cried myself out and was just drained and my breath was hitching. Judy pulled me up off the floor and walked me to the kitchen sink. She made me bend forward over the sink and ran some water. I watched her wet down a cloth and ring the excess water out and felt her place it on the back of my neck.

"It's alright," she whispered, "You're not alone. You'll never be alone. The love you always give to the rest of us will find its way back to you now."

She kissed the side of my head and cupped a hand under the water faucet and brought the cool water to my eyes and held it there a few moments.

"I can't say when but someday it will be alright. It will, Jimmy. Please believe that. I know you know that things have a reason and it's not for us to understand the reason at the time and sometimes not ever. But your family will be here for you—all of us. We will be here while you grieve and we will be here while you cry and rant to the heavens and we will be here when this can finally be put in the past. And we will be here when the joy comes back to you. It will. And it will to her too. For all the weaknesses and difficulties she has, she is resilient. She'll be fine because she has you and you will be fine because you have her."

She dribbled more water over my face and it felt good. I know it was swollen and red from crying so much. There ain't many in the world I would let see me like that but Judy was special. She patted my face dry with a towel and pushed me gently to stand up straight.

"Get some sleep, Jimmy."

I almost turned away to leave the room and then I stopped a minute.

"Thanks short stuff. You're pretty great, you know that?"

"I learned from the best," she said trying her best for a smile. It wasn't a great smile but it was something anyway. I know she was hurting too but I also know she was putting that on the backburner right then. There were things that needed doing and she didn't want us to have to do them. Every person who knew we were expecting needed to know we weren't anymore.

I climbed the stairs and crawled into bed next to Joanie. She was sleeping but I could tell she wasn't sleeping peaceful or anything. I pulled her to me and I think that was as much to comfort myself and my own hurt as hers. But then when I wound my arms around her she snuggled to me and relaxed. I fell asleep easy even though I had thought I wouldn't be able to. I think all that crying did a lot to wear me out.

I woke right around when Joanie did mostly because she started crying again. I held her tighter and petted her hair and rubbed her shoulders and back and tried to tell her it would be alright but there's really no telling a woman who has just lost a child that things will be alright. There is no comfort to a woman after something like that happens. There just isn't. Time helps and talking does too. If you know someone suffering a loss like what Joanie was then or like Rachel had a few months before, do not try to find words to comfort them. Most of the things people say when they're just trying to help either sound trite or are downright hurtful. It's the truth. Just tell them you love them and are very sorry for what happened and then let them know that you will listen when they need to talk and offer hugs when they need them and that is really all you can do. There's no right or wrong way to grieve but there are right and wrong ways to offer sympathy and comfort.

I finally got the best response from her by just telling her to let it all out and she did. She wanted that baby so badly I knew she could already feel it in her arms. What looked on that towel like a bit of nothing that was barely discernible from the blood clots there was a real baby to her. It was a cooing, crying baby and she could already in her mind feel its soft hair and smell that sweet baby sweat smell on it. I know she could. I couldn't but then it wasn't growing in my body.

"I'm so sorry I failed you, James."

"You didn't fail," I said, "This one wasn't the baby we were meant to have. We'll try again when your body is healed and ready and we'll have children, Joanie. I know we will. This just wasn't our child. There must be a very special one waiting just for us. I know you're hurting and I am too. But you did not fail. You loved that baby with all your might. I know you did."

I pulled her tight to me and let my tears fall into the mess of curls on her head. There wasn't anything really to do but cry and I felt her tears soaking through my t-shirt. I held her tight. All we had was each other and I wasn't about to let go of her for anything.

I have few words right now. Many tears but few words. I know you have all read about my boys. My oldest will be 17 in December...but really the first baby that I carried would have just turned 17 in the last week or so. No one knows exactly why but it just stopped growing and developing. It hurts like nothing else and Jimmy is right, there is no comfort. There is time and there is compassion and there are the listening ears of those who love you. But there is no comfort. Words are meaningless at a time like that and while you move forward, in some ways you're never alright again. My love to you, my friends.-J