My friend and I were riding home on BART from San Francisco. The only open seats were the priority seats right inside the doors, designated for disabled riders. We grabbed them and sat down.
At the first stop in Oakland, a huge crush of people entered the car all at once. The last one on was a young woman, nearly doubled over. She grabbed onto the seat, looked at us imploringly and said, please, I’m seven weeks pregnant. With that, we both jumped up and she fell into our seats.
She looked up at me, and since no one had taken the seat beside her, I sat back down. She then turned to me tearfully and told me that she was in pain. Excruciating. Had to stand up in the middle of a meeting and leave work. Asked me, is this normal?
What do you say to a woman doubled over in pain in the early stages of pregnancy?
Every pregnancy is different. You should call your doctor. Have you called your doctor?
She had called her dad. He was picking her up from the train and driving her to the Emergency Room though he didn’t know why.
We rode together for the next several stops. Spoke in quiet voices. Invited calm. It will be all right. No matter what, everything will be all right.
Today is Easter Sunday. The day she and her husband had planned to joyously announce to her parents that she was pregnant with their first grandchild.
I don’t know her name. I don’t know the rest of the story. I can’t stop thinking about her.
Today she is my Easter prayer.