"Did you get her to go outside without picking her up today?"
My father nodded.
"Yes," he said. "But the moment I tried to get her back inside, she tried to bite off my hand."
I laughed then. It felt freeing, like I was finally able to believe that my life wasn't going to take a turn for the worse.
It was day four of Naomi's hospital stay, and the pretty colors on her face were finally starting to change.
If all went as planned, she would be leaving this hospital this afternoon after her kidney function was tested at the one in the afternoon blood checks.
"You should try to be nicer to her," Naomi said as she rolled over on the bed, facing us. "She kicked ass."
My mouth twitched.
"She did kick ass. She just didn't stop at your attacker's ass. Now she's kicking everyone's ass who isn't me, and since I'm here most of the time with you, my brothers are starting to think this dog is as big of an asshole as I think she is."
All of a sudden, she was laughing, her face a mask of healing bruises, but still relaying the joy that she was feeling.
She was mending.
She had a baby growing in her womb, one that we weren't planning but realized quickly that we both really wanted.
And everything seemed fine.
But when the next her smile slipped off her face, and she was looking down at her lap as if something had fallen into it during her conversation, my laughter faded.
"What is it?" I asked, dropping my half-eaten slice of pizza down onto my plate and staring at Naomi with concern lacing my features.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
I stood up, not caring that my plate hit the floor with the move, and took two giant steps toward her.
My hand was yanking on the cord on the wall, the one that called every single nurse and doctor in the vicinity into our room, and started leaning the bed backward as Naomi's bruised body continued to convulse.
"Dad, get a pillow against the side rails so she doesn't slam her head against them, but don't drop them."
My father followed my instructions.
On the outside I was calm, cool and collected.
On the inside I was a churning mess of worry and terror, wound tight into a barely functioning shell.
The nurses rushed into the room, and I was slowly pushed out of the way as I watched helplessly while they started working on my woman.
The sheet and blanket that'd been covering her were thrown to the floor at the foot of the bed, and my eyes went to them, uncomprehending at what exactly I was seeing.
Blood. I know that it looked a lot worse than it was, but it was my girl bleeding. There was blood on them, and I had no clue where that blood was coming from.
But the moment I returned my eyes to Naomi, I realized where it was coming from.
Her thighs were slick with blood. Between her legs, on the sheets beneath her, was a puddle of blood forming on the waterproof sheets that hospitals used to help with cleanup. She had to have been bleeding for a while and didn't realize it.
And that's when I realized that our dose of nightmares weren't finished yet.
The baby that we were both so excited about was now gone, too.
They got her convulsions under control, but the bleeding continued sluggishly.
Naomi's head lolled to the side, and I realized with a start that her eyes were open, and she was staring at me with comprehension filling her eyes.
"I love you," she whispered.
My heart ached and my throat started to tighten.
"I love you, too, baby," I whispered back.
Her eyes closed.
I moved forward and grabbed her hand, despite getting a look by the nurse at the head of her bed, telling me without words that I was in the way.
Her eyes opened once again, distant and lost.
"I want you to move to the land," she rasped. "Take the RV and go. Don't stay at your dad's a minute longer. Build our dream home. Live, Sean."
Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she lost consciousness for the second time in less than five minutes.
This time, I was a lot less hopeful than the last.
***
"We believe that the bleeding has to do with her having a placental abruption. We have to do an exploratory surgery to stop the bleeding." The doctor was shaking his head. "If we don't, she could suffer some long term aefects," he hesitated. "Normally, this decision is left up to the individual, but since you're her fiancé, and she's still under a great deal of stress due to her other injuries, I think this is the best course of action."
My throat convulsed.
The procedure would help her … but it was one that scared the absolute crap out of me. Any surgery was a risk. There were no guarantees.