A couple of weeks ago, I got an email from one of my students saying that she was going to miss class because her sister had to deliver her baby two months prematurely. I checked in with her the following week, and her sister was doing okay, but they didn't think the baby was going to make it, as she was having trouble breathing.
Surely, I thought to myself, at 32 weeks, this baby would make it. Not much to worry about, I thought. (For us, 32 weeks would have the dream gestation.)
I checked in with her again, today. The baby passed away last week.
I sent her links to GITW and the Stirrup-Queens blogroll. Told her that I had been through something similar and would be here if she ever wants to talk.
And now I'll let it go. I don't want to become some creepy stalker/teacher. Don't want her to feel any pressure.
It's all so... I don't know. Life goes on. And so does loss. My student, at what, maybe 20 years old, has lost the innocence of the idea that, at some point, you can count on getting a baby at the end of a pregnancy.
Or maybe I'm projecting. Still. She is certainly affected. Her whole family is.
And I'm so sorry for that.