Losing

“Is there anything I can do to decrease the chances? This is our third time, and I don’t know if we can handle another loss.”

“Well, to start, you can take it easy, Y/N. I know that’s not really the way you work, but you might need to try. You’re already taking folic acid, and I know you’re taking good care of yourself.” Your doctor placed a reassuring hand on your knee and smiled. “I know it’s been hard for you and your husband, but don’t let the past stop you from hoping for a better future. Keep believing.”

She stood and left the examination room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Steve Rogers was and is your everything. Your 4 years of marriage, along with 3 years together before that haven’t always been easy, but they’ve been the best of your life. From the time he carried you out of a burning building to the time you flew all the way to France just to get real French croissants and macarons - even the time you nearly set the Avengers facilities on fire while trying to prove a point - you’d been together. You truly were each other’s match in every respect.

When you decided to start a family, it took 10 months for you to finally find out you were pregnant.

At 9 weeks along, happy didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt - elated, overjoyed, lucky, thankful - you and Steve were ecstatic.

So when you were sitting in your living room in the afternoon, relaxing with your head in Steve’s lap, you didn’t expect to feel sharp pains in your lower stomach and back. You didn’t expect to gasp and cry out, sending Steve into a panic. You didn’t expect to feel a sticky dampness leak between your legs as the pain continued. You curled into yourself, tears escaping your clenched eyelids as you tried to comprehend what could be happening.

Steve quickly moved to kneel on the floor in front of the couch, placing a hand on your head and the other on your leg in an attempt to bring you back to reality. “Doll? Y/N? What’s happening, sweetheart, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. Can you do that for me, honey?”

It was then that he saw the blood leaking through your shorts and he paled.

“Stomach… I think… baby,” you whimpered, trying to gather the concentration to communicate with your husband. Letting out another weak cry, you took Steve’s hand in a death grip. “There’s… blood. Call… the doctor. Helen. Someone.”

And he did. He screamed for Friday to tell your doctor to come immediately, and to alert Helen that you’d soon be in the medical bay. He picked you up and cradled you to his chest, moving as fast as he could without jostling you. You were weakly clinging to Steve as though your life depended on it; tears of fear and pain leaked from your eyes, and you tried to breathe through the panic.

Before you knew it, you were entering the med bay as Helen pointed Steve to the closest bed. He layed you down carefully and took your hand in his and kissed your forehead. “Cho, what is happening? What’s happening to my wife?” he demanded.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, Steve. Y/N, can you tell me how far along you are, sweetheart?” She pulled back you shirt and quickly rubbed ultrasound gel onto your abdomen, trying to find the fetal heartbeat.

“I’m… 9 weeks,” you choke out.

Cho’s eyebrows furrowed as she continued to search.

“Helen,” Steve growled. “Tell me what’s going on. What’s happening to my wife?”

She looked at him with sadness as she took a deep breath. “I can’t find the fetal heartbeat.”

“What does that mean? What- what’s happening?” he choked. You looked up at him with fresh tears in your eyes, your grip on his hand tightening.

“It… It means that… Y/N, you’re most likely having a miscarriage. When your doctor gets here, she can confirm, but… The amount of pain you’re in and how much you’re bleeding have me convinced. We could do a pelvic exam to confirm the type of miscarriage but I won’t put you through that. I’m so sorry. I’ll give you two some privacy.” She walked away after pulling the curtains around the bed.

Your crying turned to full out sobbing as you curled in on yourself, trembling from both physical and emotional agony. Steve fell to his knees beside your bed, a look of unmitigated shock and anguish painted across his features as tears slipped from his eyes. Your hands remained connected - they were your lifelines. Steve brought up his other hand to rub slow, soft circles on your lower back.

A couple hours later, your doctor arrived. She spoke with Cho before asking you a few questions and explaining the most probable cause for the miscarriage: chromosomal abnormality. She explained that it wasn’t your fault, nor was it Steve’s, or even the fault of the serum. Though her words provided closure, they were still hard for you to hear.

Your second miscarriage had been similar to the first.

Now as you sat in the examination room, you wondered how to tell Steve. He was away on a mission, but he was due back the next evening. You desperately hoped this pregnancy wouldn’t end in termination again; there was nothing more you wanted than to have a child with the love of you life. You were happy, of course - elated, even.

But you were also terrified. You tried to tear your mind away from the what-ifs, but it was hard. You and Steve were still grieving from your previous two losses, and while you had mutually decided to start actively trying again soon, it was hard to maintain a positive outlook.

Starting on your way home, you decided to make it a surprise for Steve. Little did you know, you had a surprise of your own waiting for you when you got there.