Seriously???

I worked yesterday, we have to work every 3rd weekend. Yesterday I get to work and one of the night shift nurses approaches me and asks me if I ever want to leave early for me to give her a call. She's used to working tons of OT and lately we are well staffed and the OT is almost nonexistent. So, I began to tell her that yes I would love for her to come in early for me (working 12 hours shifts) then my "friend" interrupts our conversation and asks her to come in early for her, because her husband is going out of town and he needs to pack, etc...

I let it go, I think to myself, I shouldn't be leaving early anyway with all of the infertility bills and all. So, I go on with my day. Then the charge nurse asks if I would like to stay til 10pm because we are now short 2 nurses . On a Sunday evening, that can be very risky, we tend to get very busy in the Pediatric ED after all the Sunday football games are over. So, I consider it, thinking maybe I could stay. After all, we do need a little extra money to cover our expenses. I call my husband and he tells me it's up to me, to go ahead if I'm up to working 15 hours. I contemplate and I agree.

Immediately, after I hang up the phone my "friend" responds, "I can't stay til 10pm because I have a baby at home". Now she didn't tell our charge nurse, no she said it directly to me. And this after, complaining about how little sleep she got and how he's up all night because he is now teething. I would do anything to be sleep deprived with Ethan. Anything.

I respond, "Well, unfortunately I don't have my baby at home, I don't have living a baby". My tone was flat, matter of fact. Melancholic.

She looks at me and pats my leg and says, "That's not what I meant, I'm sorry".

Seriously, she was at Ethan's mass. She was one of the readers of the liturgy. Seriously. Has she already forgotten that we were pregnant together, only she was able to bring her baby home in April, I gave birth to my baby and buried my sweet baby, Ethan, in May. Only 1 month later, my world shattered. It's still shattered, I'm still trying to pick up the pieces. Some days I do better than others, other days I don't know how I make it through.

She doesn't get it. And she may never get it. I hope she never has to go through what I did. But, for my own sanity, I will distance myself from her. I'm happy at least, I did say something, at first it just came out. Automatic. Not out of anger or rage, no that came later. Once I processed the whole thing, then I thought the audacity of her. She's notorious for walking through the ER and saying "Look isn't he beautiful" and insist that I stare at this perfect, little, living creation that is in our emergency department because of diarrhea or some other ailment. I will acknowledge and all but I will not go over and coo over something that causes me so much pain. Why is it so hard to get? Why?