Work Text:
Dear Alex,
It’s been a long time since your letter, but I thought you deserved a reply. Or, better yet, that I deserved the chance to respond, to have that closure. I’m gonna be honest, I thought about writing this letter many times. I almost did, so many times. From the time I first read your letter, all the way to today, I have thought about how to say everything I have to tell you. Today, a year after what I consider the biggest tragedy of my life, it’s finally time to tell you the story. The story of how ‘us’ finally ended.
You may think that our story ended with you getting on that plane saying it was to Iowa. That it ended with you meeting the twins in Kansas. That writing your letter was your goodbye to our story and the happily ever after of you and Izzie. Sadly for me, that was only the beginning of my side of the ending.
I was crushing on Link's couch, as you were writing that letter. I had stayed there ever since that phone call with your mother, where she told me you weren’t really with her. I hope you talked to her afterwards. I hope you apologized, for making her the one that had to tell me. You missed the sadness in her voice, as she was telling me that you weren’t there. The “I’m sorry, honey” that escaped her lips as she realized I had understood the meaning of her words. Link found me in the loft, on the verge of tears; just as I realized you had left, that you had abandoned life in Seattle, life with me.
I was crushing on Link's couch when the unstoppable nausea started. When I woke up everyday running to the bathroom to puke my guts out. When every smell bothered me. I knew what it meant, I knew what was happening. I’m a doctor, I know the signs. The morning sickness, the weird cravings, the out of control sense of smell. After a week of ignoring it, of pretending everything was okay, I stole a few pregnancy tests from the hospital and went to the loft to take them. That’s how I found the letter, along with all sorts of old mail. That’s how I found myself reading it, as I was waiting on three loading tests. And, finally, that’s how I found divorce papers with your signature on them, as plus signs showed in all three tests. Sadly, this isn’t a letter to tell you that you have an almost one year old -or two- you know nothing about. As I said before, there were many times I thought about writing. Just as I found out I was pregnant, when I scheduled my first ultrasound, when I heard the heartbeat for the first time and when I found out it was a boy. Honestly, it’s still weird. Having to say it was. Having to use the past sense about him. Back then, everything was perfect. It doesn’t make any sense, because you were gone, there was a pandemic starting and people all around me were dying. But I could see a little bump starting to grow and sometimes I could feel a flutter as he moved. I wish you could have been there, I really do. I’m sorry I didn’t call.
You are probably wondering what happened. It was a bit after the five month mark, so the beginning of April. When all of us surgeons were working non-stop and our ER was filled with covid patients. It was exhausting, we were all overwhelmed and overworked. I was living in the loft, back then, with both Schmitt and Helm -I wish there was some sort of explanation for that, there really isn’t. That day, the day everything changed, I got back from a shift that felt almost endless. It was one of those rare days off that coincided with both of my then-roommates working 48 hour shifts. It all happened so quickly, I started feeling dizzy and then came the pain. Not long after, I was on the floor, blood running down my legs and my phone fully out of reach. I blacked out after that. What happened next I know only from other people. No one was supposed to find me, no one expected to see me at the hospital for another 24 hours and my roommates weren’t gonna be home for even longer than that. I was alone, on the floor of what was once our home, losing what would have been our child. What happened next I can now only describe -after a year filled with many therapy sessions- as pure luck. It was a chain reaction of events that led to me somehow surviving. April had a bad day at work. So bad she asked Jackson to switch days with Harriet so she could spend some time with her. Jackson was bored and home alone. So bored he decided to buy a pizza and come over to the loft and hangout, in spite of me not answering his texts. Jackson had a bad feeling. So bad that he decided to grab the spare key I gave him and open the door even if I wasn’t answering his relentless knocking. Finally, Jackson coming into the loft almost an hour after I passed out and finding me laying on the floor in a pool of my own blood. It’s only luck that all our friends are doctors, right? Well, almost all of our friends. Because the next person who entered the loft, as Jackson was trying to stop the bleeding, was Ben. As luck would have it, Carina was also at the station when the call came and they both rushed me to Grey-Sloan in the back of an ambo. I was completely passed out for most of this. I vaguely recall the sirens, the orders being shouted between doctors in the emergency room and being rushed to the OR.
I woke up a day or two later, pretty miraculously. I don’t think anyone was expecting me to really wake up. Jackson told me what happened, helped me piece the story of which I had only flashes. Bailey showed up, then. She filled me in about my surgery, about what had happened to me. Carina had performed a DNC, to remove everything left from the surgery. Bailey had to stop the bleeding and try to repair the damage. Pretty much everyone came and said hi. They all looked at me with so much pity, it was devastating. No one knew what to say. Owen had been the one to admit me to the hospital, so he tried telling me that I hadn’t been alone. It was a lie though, I had been alone. Maggie couldn’t really look me in the eyes. Meredith later told me she had been in the pit for a consult when they brought me in. She hadn’t been the first to reach me, but the first to reach Jackson. She was the one that had to stop him and hold him back as I went to the OR. She was the one that had to help him clean up afterwards, as he was covered in blood, my blood. Once, even Hayes visited. I think he felt some sense of responsibility. I thought it may have had something to do with my surgery, so I asked if he had been paged there. The look he gave me, as he answered that he hadn’t been paged, helped me understand why he felt so sorry for me. No one had even paged Peds. It was pointless, a helpless case. Link came to visit too, I got to see some cute Scout pictures. It somehow both healed and broke my heart at the same time. Most of all, I spent a lot of time alone. Everyone tried to visit and spend some time with me. Nurses came in with any excuse just to talk to me for a while. The loneliness led to reflection, to me falling down the rabbit hole of what ifs. I’m sorry to say I blamed you, for a long time. Because maybe if you had been here, I wouldn’t have been alone in the loft. Maybe, I would have gone to the hospital an hour before I did. Maybe, I wouldn’t have almost bled out. Maybe, my baby would still be alive. It hurt a lot and it took a long time to get back from that.
I think maybe that’s why I didn’t call back then. Everything was just too difficult, the emotion too raw. Everyone was debating what to do, both during and after my surgery. The shock of seeing a coworker brought to the ER bleeding out in an ambo aside, we are all doctors, there are protocols. But Meredith knew I hadn’t told you yet, we had talked about it a lot. And you weren’t my medical proxy or emergency contact. I think Meredith kept almost calling, but with me out of surgery still not out of the woods, they were almost waiting to call you with both bad news, to get it over within only one phone call. Once I woke up, I said I would do it. And I tried, I honestly did. But it was just too painful. I thought about calling so many times. When I was finally able to move on my own, when I got discharged from the hospital -and instantly moved in with Jackson, who wouldn’t allow me to be alone for over 5 minutes at a time. There were times after that, when I had already recovered from the experience. When I went back to work, my first surgeries, the day of my original due date. Then, there were the times when life just forced me to inevitably think of you. When Meredith fell in a covid induced coma and when she finally woke up. And then Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. I’d talk about it regularly in therapy sessions. When I think about it the most, though, is when I go back to a little bench under a tree I had found near the hospital, during my pregnancy. It was the place I would go after every ultrasound. It’s where I would sit and talk to the little one. It’s where I thought of a name to give him, Max Karev. I always liked that name. Do you remember Max Spencer? It was my first solo surgery, the one where Schmitt lost his glasses inside a patient in the middle of the surgery. That nickname lasted him forever, poor thing. It’s a beautiful name, Max. It brings back good memories. The both of us in Peds, him calling me a Warrior Queen, us dating again and getting married. I don’t regret that, Alex. None of it. Back then, I would remember all of it fondly. I was carrying the result of that love, after all. I would talk to Max about it sometimes, about you. All of it, on that bench. The one I’m sitting in, as I write this letter. I’ve come here for every important -and difficult- date. His due date -what would have, and should have, been his birthday- and the day that marked a year since I last saw you. The day that marked a year since I found out I was pregnant, Jackson went with me to have a little plaque made. He’s the only one who truly understands me now, who knows the heartbreak of losing a son you never even got to meet. It’s on the bench now, and it reads: “In Loving Memory of Max” .
Today, exactly a year after that horrible tragedy, I can honestly say that I’m doing better. A lot has changed since then. The weeks after Max’s death were heart wrenching, and a lot happened. Meredith fell into a coma pretty much the day I went back to work. Andrew died on the table shortly after. I had a patient deliver a baby, an ectopic pregnancy attached to the liver, and then die before getting to meet her little girl. Her name was Val, and she would have been an amazing mother. And just when I thought life had only tragedies planned for me, I met Luna. She’s the tiny premie Val had, the one I delivered. I found myself relating to her a lot. She was just like me. Alone in the world, betrayed by circumstance. It was probably ill-advised, but I fell in love with her from the moment I saw her. I can’t explain it, but in that second, I became her mother. She was mine, end of story. I spent all my free time -which wasn’t much- in the NICU. Sometimes with Bailey, sometimes alone, but I was always there, checking up on her and holding her hand. Hayes pretended to be annoyed, at first, with how much time I spent there. In reality, he cared for little Luna from the very first day, and loved that she had someone coming to visit, even if her own mother couldn’t. I don’t know exactly when it happened, it just did. One day, Hayes joked that I was her mother, and I realized I had considered her my daughter for quite some time. I started the process to adopt her, and I fought for her the way I wish someone had fought for me when I was her age. I managed to get custody shortly before she was getting released. I got some maternity leave, forced by Bailey. Things were slightly calmer in the hospital. Meredith had woken up and Bailey said it was time I took a few weeks to recover from everything and to spend with my little girl. She has a soft spot for Luna. So does pretty much everyone. Meredith loved to meet her goddaughter, as did Link. You should see how Jackson looks at her, like she’s the whole entire world. Some nights, he insists I need a break and he will take care of her. In reality, he just wants Luna to cuddle and doesn’t like to share the big jerk. Harriet has followed in her father’s steps and loves to spend time with her. She loves to play dress up with her and calls Luna her baby sister. The love is mutual, Luna loves the both of them. We have a new tradition, Jackson and I both make sure to be home Friday nights and we have family movie nights. Most times, Scout and Link join us. We have now watched Frozen -Harriet’s favorite movie- pretty much a hundred times, but it’s worth it. Hearing Harriet sing, Scout babble and Luna laughing.
Even if Bailey only gave me a few weeks of maternity leave, I didn’t ever return to my position as a general surgery attending. Another big change in my life was a change in specialty. Luna’s birth and my last minute assist in a delivery -a story for another time- made me realize I wanted to do something else in my life. I wanted to help women, people, in their journey to motherhood -or parenthood, really. I spent my weeks off reading on fetal and maternal surgery. I read papers written by Arizona, Addison and Dr. Herman. The first day I came back, I talked Bailey into jump-starting Grey-Sloan’s Fetal Surgery department back to life. After a few months of studying in a fellowship under Addison -yes, Bailey pulled some strings for me- I officially became a Fetal Surgeon. Now, I work helping the tiny humans everyday. It brings me joy, something I thought I had lost in life. I’m doing loads of research, working to perfect my surgical techniques and, hopefully someday, cure some of the pathologies killing both fetuses and mother’s alike. It’s been a year, but it almost feels like a few lifetimes. So much has changed. I’m on my way to become the Chief of Fetal and Maternal Surgery. I’m doing interesting research and amazing surgeries every day. I have my own lab now and I’m working with Jenny. She’s a cancer researcher, did I tell you that? We bonded over Paul back then, but we are friends now. We reconnected in a conference I went to, about prenatal and neonatal care for cancer. I told her about my old dream, my future medicine. We are working on that, we believe we can find a non invasive way to fight tumors. Addison’s helping, too, from LA. Everything’s just a dream. And, as I sit here with Luna next to me, I feel almost perfectly happy, almost completely free. There was one thing holding me back, the weight of keeping this secret from you. I truly am sorry, for not calling sooner and for telling you everything now. I hope you can forgive me. I can honestly say I have forgiven you. I understand now, the power our kids have over us. I know the love I feel for these two is endless, and I know I will be coming to this very same bench to tell Luna about her older brother that’s in heaven. I hope you and your kids are well, and I hope you are as happy as you sounded in your letter. Don’t become a stranger, come by Seattle to visit, Meredith and the kids miss you.
Thank you, for everything.
Jo.