*Thank-you for the reviews on the last chapter. They were greatly appreciated. Thank-you all so much*
I woke up to a bright light in the room. I couldn't see much around me but I saw a sheet pulled up blocking my eyes from seeing below my waist. My head hurts, my vision is blurry. I don't know where I am my eyes can't determine my location. I hurt all over, my eyes can barely stay open. I see my dad standing next to me but he is looking down at the end of my body dressed in scrubs. I hear the mumbles of voices before I see darkness again.
I wake up cold and sore in a different room than before, my head throbbing in pain as I flicker my eyes to adjust to the light of the room. My abdomen is sore as I try to push myself up to lean against a pillow behind me. My mouth dry in need of a drink of water, I sit up through my pain, my head still throbbing as I look out to see my dad sitting next to me. Joe is nowhere to be seen. "Willow," says my dad as he gets up to get a pitcher of water as I point to my mouth. "Are you thirsty?" he asks. I nod my head to notice I am wearing a neck brace. He grabs the pitcher of water and pours me some in the cup. He walks over and helps me drink it. My mouth fills with water and saliva again. I clear my throat as he calls for someone to come into the room.
"What happened?" I ask, "where am I?"
"You don't remember?" he asks.
"I remember going to my support group and riding in the car with Joe but after that I don't remember anything. What happened? Why am I so sore and where am I?" I ask.
"There was an accident, Willow," he explains. "You were in an accident a very bad accident."
Horror fills my body at his chilling words. There was an accident. I automatically think about my baby. "The baby? Is the baby okay?" I ask ignoring how I feel and ignoring my injuries.
"You should wait for the doctor," he says to me.
"Dad, what happened? Where is my baby? Is my baby okay?" I ask with tears burning my eyes.
"There were complications," he begins as the doctor walks into the room with a nurse.
"Hello, Willow," says the doctor as he makes his way over to my bed. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel like I got run over by a truck," I answer honestly.
"Well, in a way you did," he says, "you are lucky to be alive. You were in a really bad accident with a tractor trailer," he says. "The tractor trailer slid over into your lane and hit your car head on and the car flipped over. You and your fiancée were air lifted here."
"Is Joe okay?" I ask.
"He's got a few bumps and bruises, he has a really bad concussion but for the most part he walked away with no broken bones. You on the other hand," he says looking at my eyes as he shines a light into my eyes making my head hurt more. "Well, I believe you have a major concussion which should clear up in about a week or two," he explains. He moves my blankets away exposing my legs and a hard boot on my foot. "I need you to tell me if you can feel this?" he asks before he taps on my leg.
"Yes," I say.
"Can you move your legs for me?" I move my legs for him. "Very good," he says with a smile as a resident writes something down.
"Can someone tell me if my baby is okay?" I ask getting impatient. "Is everything all right with my baby?"
"There were some complications, Willow."
"Complications?" I ask.
"Yes complications," he explains. "when you were brought in here the baby was in distress. It was either we take the baby or you lose your life and the baby does too."
"You took the baby?" I ask nervously.
"Yes we performed a C-section yesterday," he answers.
"Yesterday?" I asked confused. "I am only 27 weeks," I say. "Where is my baby?" I try to swallow past the lump in my throat but I can't. It's too painful for me to swallow past. I feel my heart racing in my chest, my stomach twisting. My eyes burned with tears with the thought of never seeing my baby or never seeing my child.
"Yes we delivered the baby yesterday," he says.
"Is it a boy, a girl, alive or dead? Stop beating around the bush and just tell me where my baby is," I say losing my patience.
"We delivered your son last night and we were able to save you and him. He is in the NICU getting help to breathe and being monitored," he says. "He has down syndrome but he is a fighter. He is very strong," he says. "He is doing well and he has a good chance of survival. His heartbeat is strong and he is fighting hard," he says.
"So he's going to be okay?" I ask.
"Right now he is fighting. He has a good chance of survival we will continue to monitor him and make sure he does well if anything changes we will let you know," he says.
"How much did he weigh?" I ask.
"He weighed 2 lbs. and 5 oz." he answers. I nearly burst into tears at the thought of my little baby being 2lbs. I'm scared and worried he won't make it. Children with Down Syndrome already have the odds against them being born 13 weeks early is a completely different odd and it is scary.
"How is he eating?" I ask. "I wanted to breast feed him."
"Right now we can't really feed him with the nipple of a breast or a bottle because his sucking reflexes aren't developed yet but he is taking formula through a tube. We can switch it to breast milk."
"Okay," I say. "Did he have any other complications?" I ask.
"He's doing well other than not being able to breathe or eat on his own but he is strong. We're hoping to have him out in 9 weeks," he says, "if not then 13 weeks."
"Okay," I say with a nod.
"But our concern is on you," he says.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I need to ask you some questions," he says. "Do you know the date?"
"June 18th," I answer guessing the date because I don't really have any idea.
"June 17th," he says. "Do you know what year it is?"
"2016," I answer.
"Who is the president of the United States?"
"Barak Obama," I say.
"Do you know what state you're in?"
"Florida," I answer.
"Wonderful," he says with a smile. "You got pretty banged up in the crash," he says. "You suffered cuts to your head that require 20 stitches, your neck is sprained and luckily not broken and your left ankle was broken in the crash," he explains.
"That's a lot," I say.
"You're lucky to be alive," he says with a nod. "We're going to keep you for a few days just to keep you monitored and to make sure everything is okay before we send you home."
"I understand," I nod. "Where is Joe?"
"He is with the baby in the NICU," he answers. "Would you like to see your son?"
"I would love to," I answer.
"All right," he says, "we will bring you a wheelchair to wheel you to the NICU so you can meet the baby."
"Thank-you," I say with a smile before he leaves the room.
"Are you okay, Sweetheart?" asks my dad.
"I'm fine," I answer. "I just don't believe everything that's happened here. I don't remember the accident at all. I remember Joe and I were in a fight. I kept telling him to pull over but he wouldn't. He said he was fine. Then I just remember seeing lights. I don't remember anything else."
"It was a serious accident, Willow. The SUV was totaled and smashed. They needed to cut you and Joe out of the car. You both could have died but thankfully and thank God that you didn't. I didn't know what to expect when I got the call. I was scared. I came here and saw you all bruised and beaten up. I saw you unconscious and I thought I would never see you again or talk to you again. You were out for quite a while."
"My head hurts," I say. "I feel like there is someone pounding on a drum inside my head."
"The doctor needs to give you some medication to help with your headache."
"Have you talked to Joe?" I ask.
"Not a word," he says, "he hasn't been by to check on you at all."
"Was he there when the baby was born?"
"He was," he answers, "but he hasn't been around to check on you since."
"I'll talk to him," I say as the doctor brings my wheelchair into the room. The nurse and doctor help me out of the hospital bed and help me into my wheelchair. I feel even worse as I stand up, my legs are weak and sore. My stomach feels like my insides have been ripped out. I sit down in the wheelchair and they wheel me to the NICU so I can meet my baby boy while my dad stays back in my room. Making our way to the NICU I have a mixture of feelings; fear, nervousness, excitement and happiness. I knew we were going to have a baby but I didn't expect for him to be born this soon.
The doctor wheels me into the NICU and I see Joe standing next to the baby's incubator. The sound of heartbeats and beeps fill the room. There are at least 10 other babies in the NICU with our little man. The doctor wheels me over to the baby's incubator and Joe turns around, "Willow," he says. "I'm so sorry," he says with guilt in his voice. "I'm so sorry," he says as I push myself up out of the wheelchair trying not to put weight onto my broken foot that's in a heavy boot. He wraps his arms around me, taking tightly into his arms.
"Gentle," I whisper as I wrap my arms around him.
"I'm sorry," he cries onto my shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he apologizes over and over.
"Joe, you didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault," I explain.
"It was. You told me it was too bad out to see and I couldn't see. You told me to pull over but I didn't. I thought we could make it home. I thought we would be okay."
"Joe, it's not your fault," I say as I look at him. "You didn't know that truck was going to slide into our lane. That's the funny thing about life you never know what's going to come next. You couldn't have predicted it happening. You're fine, I'm fine and the baby is alive. Don't beat yourself up over the accident. It is just that; an accident it wasn't planned or premeditated it was being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"We wouldn't have been in the wrong place at the wrong time if I had pulled over," he says. "I should have pulled over. I just wanted to get you home so that I could get to the airport to fly out for my house shows. I was selfish and I should have been more careful."
"Stop blaming yourself I'm not going to stand here and let you beat yourself up over something you couldn't control. You have nothing to be guilty about okay?" I ask him looking up at him with my bruised green eyes. "Okay?" I ask.
"Okay," he nods before hugging me again. "I'm glad you're awake. I was so worried about you."
"I heard you haven't been to see me," I say.
"I have been with the baby. The doctor has been keeping me updated. I didn't want him to be alone," says Joe. "He is so tiny but my heart is full for this little boy," he says as I look into the incubator at our tiny baby boy. He is nearly the size of Joe's fingers to his wrist. I have never seen something so small and fragile in my life. He has red peach fuzz hair but his eyes are covered and he is hooked up to tubes and wires. "He has all ten fingers and all ten toes," says Joe with a smile and tears in his eyes. "He's perfect," he says, "and he is so strong." I take my hand and place it on his arm, rubbing it softly as I look into the incubator.
Joe's not lying, our son is beautiful. He is so tiny and precious. He's perfect to me despite his abnormality he is beautiful. His head is bigger than his entire body and he is not breathing on his own but receiving air from the tubes he is hooked up to. His fingers long and small and his hand no bigger than a large grape, tears fill my eyes as I look at the creation from my love with Joe. He is perfect. His legs so skinny but long and his little feet no bigger than cheese cut up into a rectangle. "I love him already," I say with tears in my eyes as Joe wraps his arm around me, holding me close as we admire our son. My entire world stops in that moment, I never believed in true love at first sight until I saw my son in that incubator. He has the tiniest mouth but the fullest lips I have ever seen and his skin looks like velvet. I want nothing more than to hold my son in my arms. "Joe," I say through my tears. "He's perfect."
"He's a fighter for sure," he says, "but he is perfect. I could have never imagined so much perfection in my entire life. With everything that could have gone wrong it didn't because he is a fighter. The odds were against him from the start and he is defying all odds. He's a warrior."
"He is," I say with a smile as the tears run down my cheeks. They are tears of happiness and joy no sadness is found in them.
"I know we discussed naming him Calaway Peter but after everything that has happened and after the accident, how hard he is fighting and how much he will fight because he is a warrior I thought that we could name him Kekoa Peter Calaway Anoa'i," he suggests "What do you think?"
"Kekoa?" I ask looking up at him.
"It means warrior in Hawaiian," he says with a smile. "I figure since he is a little warrior it is the perfect name for him. If you're not sold we can name him Calaway Peter like we planned. I just thought Kekoa would have some significance; not that Calaway doesn't but I feel like he needs to be named Kekoa because he is going to prove he is a warrior and it should be his namesake. What do you think?"
"Kekoa," I repeat, "and it means warrior?"
"Yes," he says, "if it didn't I wouldn't even suggest it. We always talk about our child's name having meaning what do you think?"
"Kekoa Peter Calaway Anoa'i," I say. "I like it. It sounds good and he is a little warrior."
"Willow, I love you."
"I love you too," I say before he hugs me gently.
"I know lately we have had rough times and we haven't been saying it to each other that much but I could have lost you and I sat thinking what if I had lost you. The last thing I had ever said to you would be that I was fine or that we were fine not that I love you. I don't tell you that nearly enough and I need to."
"I think we are both guilty of that, Joe. Things have been stressful lately and we have been getting into so many fights. It sucks but it's life. We're learning to deal with it. I don't want the last words that we ever say to each other to be in haste. I want our last words to always be that we love one another," I say. "We need to get better at that. Life doesn't last forever and after last night we never know how much time any of us truly have left. I love you, Joe. I love you so much," I say before he leans down and kisses my lips softly. "We'll get better I promise," I say with a soft smile. "I just can't believe we have a son."
"Through all the drama it's good to be able to enjoy him. I can't wait for the day I can hold him in my arms. We did great, Willow. We made a beautiful baby."
"I couldn't agree more," I say with a smile as we look down at our son together. I reach my hand into his incubator and touch his tiny arm. His skin feels as soft as velvet and it is covered with hair. "Hey, Little guy," I say with a smile. "I'm your mama and I love you so much already. Your daddy and I are going to give you the entire world there is nothing that will ever stop us from giving you everything you desire but the most important thing we are going to do for you is love you unconditionally every day for the rest of our lives. Welcome to the world, Kekoa," I say with a smile as I run my fingertip over his soft skin. "I love him so much, Joe."
"Me too," he says with a soft smile before he kisses my cheek.
*A/N: What did you think of Willow the only one walking away from the accident with serious injuries while Joe only had a concussion? Are they lucky to be alive? Do you believe Joe should have pulled over when Willow told him to? What do you think of the baby being born so soon? At least he is alive and doing well right? What do you think of Joe never going to visit Willow? Do you think Joe should be blaming himself? Are you glad Willow told him that it wasn't his fault about the accident? Are they both correct that they need to tell each other they love one another more? What did you think of their time meeting the baby in the NICU? What about the name they chose for the baby, Kekoa? Please review and thank-you for reading.