As scared as he had been not knowing what had happened to her when she told him it felt like a baseball bat to the gut. For a moment they had been having a baby and now it was gone. Jethro's heart broke for the baby, for Jen, and for himself. Tears welled up in his eyes as he leaned forward wrapping his arms around her.
She just presses her face into his shoulder, sobbing deeply. She'd only ever cried this hard once before, after her father's death. "I'm sorry," she says over and over between gasps for air. And she's never apologized to him as much as she is now. She knows it's her fault and nothing he says will assuage that guilt. She just keeps thinking about all the garbage she's been dumping into her body, wondering if it just would have ended the same way no matter what she'd done. She feels like a bad person (a bad mother?) for not even realizing.
He gently held her rubbing his hand up and down her back. Jethro wanted to tell her there was no reason to apologize but he knew it was a bad idea for her to hold all this in.
Jen clings to him like a lifeline, afraid she's already drowning in her guilt and her grief. The apologies eventually stop, but in their place, she says, "It's my fault, Jethro. I caused this." She needs to get this out, even if what she says and what she believes is misguided because this is the kind of pain that can fester and suck all the life from her.
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