Christian's POV (Italics for past tense)

Here I sit, scared to death for the love of my life and my child. After everything we have been through, I cannot believe this is happening. She just collapsed.

I had just finished heating up the casserole left for us by Mrs. Jones. It looks heavenly, I'm sure mommy and baby are going to enjoy it. I set it in the warmer and await for a moment for Ana to finish getting changed. My, my this has been quite an interesting several months.

From the moment I met Ana, I knew she was different. Of course I offered her the same type of "relationship" I had the others. As soon as I had that contract drawn up, I knew she was different. I was never really a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Get my fix, what I need from them, and move along. I'd become quite callous, hadn't I?

She scared me when she left the first time. Scared me shitless, as I thought I'd never get her back. Then she left a second time, after seeing Elena in my bathroom in my office. Talk about awkward. Those 6 weeks without her is something I never want to experience again. The drunkeness. The self loathing. I'm done with that and I was ready to be done with Ana if she couldn't get this shit settled within herself. I find it quite simple. I love her and she loves me. But, nothing is ever really that simple, is it?

I'm stirred from my memories by my mother walking into Ana's room. I've held a bedside vigil since 16 hours ago, when she collapsed. A lot has happened since then.

"Christian, you should really go-"

"No!" This is my wife. I refuse to leave her. I sound like a child.

"The baby is.." she trails.

I whip my head around and look her in the eye. "What? The baby is what, mom?"

"In an incubator in the PICU. With being born 2 months early and the distress put on the baby from the placental abruption, the baby came out with the cord wrapped around it's neck. The baby…" my mom sniffles. This is her first grandchild, she, I mean we, should be more excited and joyous. Not stuck in the hospital with my wife and child clinging to life.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I was very happy today on the boat. Just relaxing. Just spending time together. No more drama, no more ex subs or Elena in our path. Just us.

I hear some sound from the bedroom then I hear a loud groan. OH SHIT. I run as fast as I can and make it to the bedroom door. I open it and there is my beautiful wife. With a trail of blood coming down her leg, holding her stomach. she looks at me with nothing less than fear in her eyes and I'm momentarily stunned. What do we do? She passes out and I am quick to catch her before she hits the floor. There's more blood coming and quickly. I lay her on the bed and call 911 then my mother.

Ana has been sedated post C-section, allowing her body time to heal. She certainly needs it. She's okay. The baby is okay. And now I can breathe. They're still breathing. I'm permitted to breathe. She breathing tube was removed from Ana a couple hours ago post surgery, so that's a good sign.

"Can you take me to see him, mom?" I ask. I don't need her permission, I just need her strength to help me actually go. I don't want to leave Ana. But my son needs me too.

I can't help but feel part of this is my fault. I took her on the boat today and am the cause of a lot of her stress. Or some of it. Our issues have been getting easier and easier to deal with with our open communication. However, yesterday at Flynn's office, it was my turn to communicate my turmoil. What I was going through, how badly I wanted, NO, needed her to make up her mind. How she had hurt me. Hence the relaxing time on the boat. As we arrive in the ambulance to Seattle's best hospital, I pray that I haven't inflicted too much pain on her.

I shake my head, coming back to the present. We haven't even picked out his name. I have yet to place eyes on him. It's all happened so quickly. First the ambulance ride, then C-section, then baby in PICU and a wife heavily sedated in ICU. I bear it all. What else can I do? Kate, Elliott, my father, and Mia have all been here and have gone back home for the evening. My mother refuses to leave my side. God I love her. My mother has saved me time and time again.

As we approach the PICU, I inhale sharply, preparing myself for what I'm going to see. Mom leads me to the little box my son has been kept in. She opens the sides and says I should talk to him. I grab a stool and get real close to my little guy. He looks so fragile. I touch his hand with my finger and start humming to him. I don't know what to say, so I hum him a lullaby and another. Mom says it's too soon to take him out of the incubator. No holding yet. Soon though, I'm sure. My boy is a fighter, just like his mother.