But not me
Blaine told me afterwards that he was scared I was going to die. Me. Not the baby. Me. That's why he said, "I'm so glad you're not one of those women who hate their husbands for getting them pregnant," and why he said, "I hate this part," and why he kept reminding me, as if I needed reassurance, of what was normal and what wasn't. When really he needed the reassurance. He needed me to tell him I was still okay. That's why he prayed. That's why he prayed.
When I first got pregnant, Blaine was scared of the same thing. After I talked to the specialist about the miscarriage, I wasn't sure how to best break the news of my pregnancy to Blaine, so we were silent for a long time while he waited for me to find the words, and when I did, he was so relieved and then later revealed how scared he had been. He said, "What was I supposed to think when you took so long to tell me? I kept thinking of that book you made me read." Which was Love Story. Which I made him read because of the love story, not because of the death story. Not to break anything to him or to prepare anything for him.
Lying in bed afterwards, he said he kept thinking of all the women who used to die in childbirth because they didn't have medical attention. He was probably thinking about the way Moses freaked out when we told him I wasn't going to have the baby in a hospital. He was thinking of "Eve of Destruction," and for the longest time when he told me that, I couldn't make the connection between the musical and giving birth. And when I realized that he was referring to my character dying in the story, I said, "You were scared I was going to die?"
And he said, "Yes."
Blaine. Blaine. Why do you worry about this? You know I'll never die.