it had been a rough appointment.

jack was an er doctor. he was no stranger to heartbreak, no stranger to loss.

but it’s different, when it’s happening to you. it had been a year of heartbreak regarding negative tests, tracking ovulation obsessively and trying to get pregnant. but nothing was working.

after plenty of fertility appointments for both of you, it was decided that jack was fertile, and so were you, but your fertility was lower, and because you weren’t completely infertile, there was nothing that they could do.

jack thought it was bullshit.

but the two of you kept trying. kept trying despite the sadness beginning to consume both of you. despite the heartbreak every month when it was only one line on the test.

and then it happened. you were both shocked, excited. too excited. jack had bought an outfit. just one and you had already started picking out names for either a boy or a girl. but life had a way of being cruel, and the day after the twelve week scan, you had miscarried. alone. at home.

jack had come home immediately, and you dealt with the grief together. the anger. the pain. you made appointments and told people that, actually, you wouldn’t be having a baby now.

and it was awful. it was starting to tear both of you down. but you had to go to the appointment, to check the baby was officially gone.

it was awful. and brutal. it was sterile and cold and you’re both doctors, you should know what normal procedure is.

but it was awful.

you walk out of the hospital hand in hand, not in scrubs for once.