I almost lost the greatest thing I've ever had happen to me; my wife Lissy. We just reconciled a couple of months ago after a trial separation. She left and went back to live in the States; I struggled to try to get my shit together and sort out what I wanted to do with my life and what I needed to bring Liss back to me.

Guess I should kinda explain. I don't have to tell you I have a temper, that sometimes I say what I shouldn't; it's been sort of public knowledge. And that I've kind of had inner demons to fight. Don't really know when it all started; don't really know when it got so out of control, but it was enough that Lissy finally had all she could take; basically what it came down to was she left the decision up to me whether or not I wanted to try to salvage our marriage. Said I was destroying myself and she couldn't bear to watch me do that. She was right; and I had to face that head-on. She even began going to therapy while we were apart because she thought it was something she had done to drive me to this point, when, in reality, it was myself.

So I started up here, finally felt strong enough to go after my wife and try to make this work. She's too precious to me; if I lost her, I don't know where I'd be or what I'd do. She was willing to take me back; I brought her back home and we've been working real hard ever since to make things good, like they were for us when we first got married.

It's hard going to therapy. Liss seems to have no problem putting all of her thoughts and feelings out there for a stranger to listen to. I sorta feel that any problems should be worked out between me and my wife in a private manner, but Liss says that maybe we should try this, have some objective person help us work things out. So I've tried; Lissy and I also have tried so hard to open up to each other more, too, work things through together, and I feel it's slowly starting to make a difference. The best news: we've seriously discussed trying to have a baby; something we brought up before but have never acted upon. Both of us feel ready and I, especially, feel our life together is finally stable enough to actually do it.

Had to come to Sydney for some stuff; Liss came with me though she's been feeling really under the weather for awhile now. Since I brought her back, she hasn't been eating too great; to me she looks way too thin, and I've worried constantly about her health. I think it's maybe due to the stress she's been under since we separated and the confusion of trying to put some semblance of a normal life back together. She finally promised to go see the doctor in a couple of days. I just want to make sure she's all right; I know it's probably going to take awhile to get things completely back to a regular routine, but it's been worrying me to no end. Know I'm so fucking protective of her, but I have been almost from the moment we met; it's my nature. Luckily, Liss humours me on this matter all the time; if she didn't, she'd have been driven mental long before this.

We've both stayed close to home; Liss because she's been ill and me to watch over her. She's slept off and on all day, said she couldn't eat, yet again, because she's been having stomach cramps. I've wondered more than once today if I should maybe insist we take her in for a look over just to make sure there's not something entirely more serious with her. Then, the decision's not up to me anymore.

I hear her cry and rush into the bathroom. She's huddled on the floor, next to the toilet, a towel on her lap. When I stop dead, looking at her, I can see the fear in her eyes, the silent plea in them for me to do something to make things right. "I'm bleeding," she whispers, lifting the towel, and I can smell the coppery smell at the same time I see the stain on the knit leggings she's wearing.

I know this isn't her monthly. She had that a bit ago; it's not that I'm overtly concerned with my wife's cycles and all of that, but since we were trying to get her pregnant, we were both sorely disappointed when it started up. But, strangely enough, she's been bleeding off and on since then; I told her that she should definitely bring that up with the doctor at her appointment, too, since I didn't think that was normal. Lissy said it was probably due to the time zone changes and all the upheaval she's gone through; that her body didn't know which end was up. Well, this definitely isn't right. She's crying now, as I kneel beside her and try to calm her down. "We'll get you to hospital, Liss, and everything's gonna be fine."

"I got it...on the bathroom rug..."

"I don't give a flying bloody fuck about the bathroom rug, Liss; we've got to get you on out of here and checked out straightaway."

"You've got to call Mark, Russ. You can't drive us, you'll get in a wreck. Besides..." her voice trails off and I know she's fearful of a media circus if word gets out. She's right; and though sometimes I hate what my celebrity's done to us in that regard, now I'm hoping to use that to get the best treatment for whatever Lissy's got. So I run out for the mobile, talking tersely to him as I get a blanket wrapped around Lissy, holding her tight, fearful to move her until he gets there to help me figure what's going on.

Fortunately for us, he's in the same building, in his own apartment, when we're alone like this we rarely need him or David, Lissy's own aide, but they're always close by should we have to call on them. I barely have the presence of mind to leave Liss long enough to unlock the door so he can come in; he's there just a moment later; and I can see his worry as he looks at her, so pale, clinging to me, still crying and scared.

"Called David, he's already gone ahead of us to plan things out; we've rung them and let them know you're coming." Lifting my wife in my arms, cradling her close, I follow him out and to our waiting vehicle.

Mark drives just slow enough to be legal, as I sit there with her in the backseat. She's shaking now, though when I ask her she thinks the worst of the bleeding's stopped. Still, I can't help but wonder what's wrong with her; only know that if anything were to happen to her, my entire world would collapse.

"I'm so cold," she murmurs, and my heart starts to pound with dread, 'cause I've still got the blanket round her and she's still snug in my arms. Please, God, I plead, don't let my wife die.

We reach the hospital in record time; there's an underground parking and a private entrance that'll take us up to any part of the hospital. David's already waiting there with two medics who've got a stretcher waiting. I'd just as soon carry her up myself but both Mark and David finally persuade me to let go of her and lay her down on it. Still, I'm right beside her, holding onto her hand as they take her up to Emergency. When they're gonna wheel her in there, that's when they tell me I can't go with her just yet, and the two of them, I have to say, have to practically pry my fingers from hers and hold me back as they take her off to check her out.

I'm ushered into this empty private room, David watching outside while Mark gets the forms I have to fill out for Liss. All I can think of is how frigid her hand was, how pale and scared she looked as they took her away from me and the sight of that blood. My hands are shaking, my mind in a muddle. When I get the paperwork to fill out I'm scarcely able to remember her vital information; out of habit, I almost write "Lissy" as her name, rather than her given one, Lisa. Lissy's a nickname I gave her almost from the time we met; it's all I ever call her, and I'm the only one that ever does. To call her anything else seems strange to me, after all this time. So there's a moment's pause and then I carefully write, in my best scrawl, "Lisa Katherine (Cook) Crowe" and then the pen slips from my fingers, joining the clipboard on the floor, and I've got my face buried in both hands. Mark doesn't miss a beat, he's picked everything up, gives me a bit to try to compose myself, then he's filling out the entire rest of it as I give him the answers to put in the spaces. He leaves to go turn it in for me and assess the entire situation with David.

I wouldn't say I'm particularly religious, but I'm a spiritual person, in my own right. At this moment I want to go to the hospital chapel; but the fact that we're here has to be kept as low-key as possible, especially for Lissy's sake. So I sink to my knees, here on the hard cold floor of the waiting room, holding onto the cross I always wear, and I pray. Ask God to keep Lissy safe until I can be with her; ask Him to make her well again. Maybe I don't deserve any of the happiness I've had with her, but we've fought so hard recently to find one another again and I couldn't bear to lose her, not now. I love her so much I would lay down my life for hers, if it were possible.

I don't know how long I've knelt there, finally breaking down and crying, because I have no idea what's going on with Liss and when I'll be able to see her again. I get the feeling Mark and David have been aware I've been this way and have allowed me a spot of privacy, but finally I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Mark standing there. When I glance at the clock, it's been almost an hour since we brought Lissy here and frankly, it's only seemed like just a few minutes, 'cause I've been wrapped up in my own worry and grief.

"They're asking for you, said you can see her now," he tells me. "The doctor wants to speak to the two of you together."

At least Lissy's still alive; and I reckon we can survive whatever it is that's wrong with her; as long as I've got her safely with me. Whatever she needs; I plan to get her the best medical care for whatever's ailing her. I follow him, practically running, until I burst through the door he directs me to.

Liss is laying there, still pale and delicate-looking, but she manages a small smile and extends her hand to me when she sees me. I come and take it comfortingly in mine; lean over to kiss her as I sit there beside her and we both await the doctor's return. They've got her hooked up to an IV and in a hospital gown; which probably means I won't be taking her home with me tonight; but it doesn't matter; I plan to stay here, by her side, until she's able to come home.

"How are you?" I ask, gently. "Do they know what's wrong?"

"I..." she shrugs. "When they took me in, they had to put me slightly under to look at me. Everything was hazy. I don't know, I didn't hear anything but I guess that's what the doctor's going to tell us."

"But are you better?"

"The bleeding's stopped." She looks at me with those huge dark brown eyes of hers. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Russell."

"Well, whatever it is, we're gonna get you better, baby, I promise." Now that she's near me, and we're touching, I feel stronger, able to be the one to protect her. Don't feel quite so helpless anymore. Just then the doctor enters, looking over Lissy's medical charts, introduces himself as Doctor Michael Connor. There are a couple of nurses right behind him, checking over Lissy's IV and how she is and then he comes right out with it.

"The good news is you'll still be able to have another child in the future." 

For a moment, both of us look at each other. We never said anything about trying to have a baby; where in the hell would he get that assumption from? Then, almost at the instant I see the horrifying realization dawning in Lissy's shocked, sad face, I feel the blood draining out of mine and hear an awful roaring sound in my ears. My hand tightens around my wife's and I feel like the heart's been ripped out of my chest as she begins to cry. I have to fight the urge to fall to the floor in grief; thinking to myself that I have to be the strong one, I have to protect Lissy, over and over reminding myself of this. I already know the truth of it but I have to hear it direct from the doctor. "I don't understand," I say, my voice sounding foreign, like it's coming from somewhere far away.

"We weren't able to save this baby. I'm sorry." 

The pain in Lissy's expression is the same pain that I feel within me, slicing me to ribbons. It hurts like fucking hell; greater than any agony I could ever know, except for maybe the time Liss left. Though there, at least there was the chance I could make things right and bring her back. There's nothing we can do anymore for the life of this child we didn't even know about; no bargaining with God, no asking Him to spare its life. As I held her in my arms, on the floor of our bathroom, that was the end; but we didn't even realise it. I don't know what I could have done, but the knowledge that I wasn't able to do anything at all eats at me. If only I had known. If only WE had known. Life is full of regrets, of should-haves, of if-onlys. But this one is the greatest one of all.

"You didn't realise you were pregnant?" He's asking Lissy this but she's unable to speak, her hand once again so cold in mine. Tears are coursing down her face and I can feel them welling up in my own eyes as I answer for the both of us. "No. She hasn't been eating right...she's lost a bit more weight, actually, but no. We didn't know. We didn't fucking know." Christ, can't the bloke tell by the looks on our faces we didn't have a bloody clue? Don't know why I ask the next part but somehow I have to try to understand as much of this as possible. "How far along?"

"About two months." Lissy cries harder and I understand exactly what she's thinking. Two months ago, when I came to America to fetch her, to try to get her to come back to me and save our marriage, that's when we spoke seriously of our desire to start a family of our own, to try to conceive a baby. That decision really was the beginning of the foundation of our reconciliation, that we felt stable and secure enough in our love and our relationship with each other to bring another life into it. Apparently, too, that is exactly what happened; that in the renewal of everything we had about us, we created a child; and now that it's gone, I wonder if we will be strong enough to hold ourselves together. I wonder if I will be strong enough.

"But..." Lissy's somehow found her ability to speak, though her voice is nearly a mere whisper, everyone stops to focus on her. "But I had my period...I've been having..." I nod in agreement. Maybe they've misdiagnosed this and she was never pregnant at all. Maybe this is all a horrible nightmare and any moment now the two of us will wake up; we'll be back safe in our bed at the farm and none of this will have been real.

"Irregular? Spotty?" Dr. Connor asks. When she says yes, he says, "That happens, sometimes. I'm so sorry." Her gaze slides to mine and the agony she must see there is too painful for her; she averts her head and closes her eyes, crying even harder. God. I don't know what I can do to make this right; if things will ever truly be right for us again.

"Jesus..." Half prayer, half curse, it's all I can think of to say right now, all the anger and grief and utter, intense pain coming out in profanity. I can't even see straight now; blinded by all these thoughts and emotions, still clinging to Lissy's hand because right now, touching her is all that is real and good to me. "Fuck. Oh, god. Dear god...Shit. Oh, fuck..." Fumbling madly in my pocket to get a cigarette, anything to calm me down, one of the nurses stops me and reminds me I can't smoke in there. I apologise, and then I can't help it, I'm finally crying, too, as the doctor and the nurses seem to be frozen into place, uncertain what to do amidst our suffering.

Then Liss begins breathing rapidly, shallowly, overcome with shock and emotion, and there's a flurry of activity around her as they try to get her oxygen, try to sedate her to calm her down. I won't let go of her hand, though. Keeping hold of her is somehow the only way I can stay linked to reality; painful as it is, she's all I have left, and I will never let her go. Never. As she begins to lose consciousness, she's trying to frantically find me in all the confusion and I lean over her, looking deep into her eyes, tears still streaming down my face. I think I'm the last thing she focuses on as she goes under; and I hope she realised in that moment how very much I love her. How much she's my life, my entire world, and I can't lose her, too. My very soul's been torn apart; and Lissy is the only thing right now keeping me from falling apart completely.

They have to take her away for just a bit, and I have to tell ya, leaving my wife alone again, even though she's unconscious right now, is difficult. They want to make absolutely sure the bleeding's stopped; maybe run some tests to find out if there was any known cause behind it. We'd never tried to become pregnant before so until this point we didn't even know if we could conceive; up until Liss went to the States she was using that birth control patch because when we first married we wanted a bit of time alone together before starting a family. When she left, she neglected to keep using it; and that's why I think we were able to get pregnant so quickly after reconciling. They tell me they'll come fetch me when they've got her settled into a room; besides...losing the baby...fuck, that is one of the hardest things to say...she's suffering from anaemia, exhaustion and dehydration, and she'll have to stay there for a few days. I'm not leaving her side; I'll sleep on the floor if I have to. Don't give a damn about security and logistics and all that shit; Mark will have to sort it all out, 'cause I'm not leaving Lissy alone while she's here.

Speaking of, I have to go inform him and David of what's happened; both of them are waiting just outside and when they see the look on my face I know they're alarmed, even as they both try not to show it. We go back into the private waiting area they've set aside for me and it takes all my effort for me to get the words out.

"She..." I'm trying not to cry again, one of them on either side of me, as I choke it out. "She...was pregnant. We didn't know...didn't know...didn't fucking know..." this is going to be a goddamn litany for me, "....but she...miscarried...and...lost...the...baby..." They've both seen Liss and I in some pretty private moments, experienced the highs and lows right alongside us, but this is something that only the two of us share right now. I don't expect them to understand and I really, really don't want their sympathy, because that'll just put me over the edge, but I'm unprepared for their sudden grief; it almost seems to match my own and it's right then that I realise just how much the two of us, and, by extension, the child that we lost, mean to both of them.

"But she's gonna be all right." This from David; Lissy, he's told me, is almost like a daughter to him, and I know she feels the same towards him; she hasn't had much of a relationship with her own father, so David's kinda filled that role for her. If I'm not able to be there to look after my wife, he is the main person I trust with watching over her and without a doubt I know that if it came down to it he would risk his own life for hers.

I nod, but, really, what does 'all right' mean anymore? "She's gotta stay here for a bit, she's really sick." Briefly I relate what the doctor told me; it sounds almost clinical, safe for discussion. I take a shuddering breath and look Mark dead in the eyes. "I'm staying here with her until I get to take her home," I tell him and he's known me long enough to understand that there is no reasoning with me on this one.

We've all three been sitting there for awhile, each lost in his own thoughts and for me, anyway, my own private agony, when Dr. Connor and Lissy's regular Sydney doctor, Dr. Lindsay Moran, come in. I'm only half listening, still numb, as they explain that they haven't found any real reason for the miscarriage except to say that sometimes this is nature's way, if there's something developing wrong with the child, so it won't be born with severe problems. At this point, I would be willing to have a baby with physical or mental concerns, just to not feel this sort of torment. Liss and me, we'd do all we could to give our child everything possible; we'd try our best to make its life a happy one. But there's no bringing it back and there's not a fucking thing I can do about it.

They tell me that we should be able to try to have a child again but I don't know if I could endure anything like this happening a second time, don't know if I could watch Lissy go through it, either. Then something they tell me sinks in: they're in the process of moving her to a room in the Maternity section of the hospital. That's when I snap.

"There's no fucking way you're putting her there! Do you know what the hell it would do to her to see other women with their healthy children...know what it would be like for her to hear their cries? You're fucking moving her, and you're moving her now! Otherwise I'm taking her home with me...you're not stopping me!" I'm yelling, filled with rage and that all-consuming grief. Mark has to physically hold me back; David, who has a personality more like Lissy's and I think that's part of the reason they get along so well, is speaking in hushed tones to Dr. Moran and they agree to move her to another quiet, secure part of the hospital. When I've calmed down enough, I sink into a chair, my head buried in my hands, only vaguely aware of Mark also telling them of my intention to stay there until Liss is well enough to be released. I think my outburst has somewhat scared the bloody hell out of them because they reassure they're going to make arrangements, and then they're both off to see to Lissy; tell me they'll come fetch me when she's settled in.

I can't believe their insensitivity; but then again, it's not their child that died, not their wife whose life was in jeopardy, not them who was helpless and powerless to do a thing for either one of them. On the one hand I know it's not my fault, nor Lissy's; we didn't know and even if we had, I'm not sure we had enough warning to do anything anyhow; yet on the other I can't help but think of the strain I put on Lissy with all the shit from before and wonder if this had anything to do with her losing our baby.

Finally they come back and tell me I can be with her; I practically run to the room. Once I'm in there, Lissy's still out; she's got the IVs in her hand and they tell me she's going to probably be sleeping for awhile. Her body needs time to heal, as well as her heart; although, like mine, I wonder if it will be able to, after all we've been through.

She looks so fragile. She's so pale, and she's so still it scares me. When she was in the States, she cut her hair; it used to be long and thick, and I always loved playing with it, loved running my hands through it, but now it's quite short and it makes her look even more small and delicate lying there surrounded by tubes and equipment.

I realise I have to let some people know what happened, at least on a cursory level, like my agent, etc., because I'm not planning on leaving Lissy's side for awhile. The hospital's promised to keep everything as low-key as possible; if the media finds out she's in here, which I don't doubt they eventually will, the official reason is gonna be she's suffering from exhaustion. We managed to keep our separation out of the press; mostly what flew 'round was rumours, but I definitely don't want to see word of this getting out, for my sake, but mostly, for hers. Mark offered to make the calls for me but I think this is something I need to do, although I just can't cope with reliving this again and again right now. However, I do need to let my mum and dad know what's going on, in case they try reaching us at the apartment for anything, and I also need to let Lissy's mum know, so I make the phone calls, quietly, as I sit there at her bedside, my eyes never leaving her as I talk to our parents.

This is by far one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. When my mum comes on the line, I can't stop breaking down again, and it's a bloody miracle she's able to understand what I'm saying. She lets my dad know, which is good, because by this time, I'm shamelessly bawling, but when they want to come be with us, I tell them no, that my aim is to get Lissy out of here, back on her feet, and then back to the farm as quickly as possible. I think they're both in shock, too, and I feel bad that we all can't be here to comfort each other, but by god, if all of our parents were seen coming and going, it'd become a fucking circus and the press would know something definitely wasn't right. The same thing happens with Liss' mum; after what happened between me and her daughter before I'm not sure she entirely trusts me to look after Lissy ever again, but as soon as I tell her what's gone on, besides worrying over her, she's concerned about me, and the two of us have a good cry together. Her family's always just accepted me for me, something I greatly appreciate, and in this moment, despite all I've done to hurt Liss in the past, I know they forgive me and we're all united in grieving for this lost child together.

Then when I hang up it's just me here alone with my wife. I just sit there, looking at her for the longest time, and then I kiss her, taking her good hand, the one without the IVs, in mine. The last thing I can remember is kinda slumping forward in the chair, resting my head against our hands, and then I'm so exhausted, so drained, emotionally and physically, that I fall asleep there, too.

When I wake, it's to the feel of Lissy's hand gently stroking my hair, her fingers combing through it in that tender, soothing way she has. And it amazes me that even through her own pain; she's reaching out for me. I open my eyes and lift my head to look at her; she's watching me, her dark eyes brimming over with tears, but she tries to smile at me, even though she fails miserably. I try to smile back at her and think my attempt is even more pathetic than hers.

"Are you okay?" What an absolutely fucking stupid question to ask her. Do I think she's okay? Hell, no. Am I okay? Hell, no. What kind of idiocy is that? She shakes her head and just continues to gaze at me with that sorrowful, lost look on her face that mirrors the same emptiness I feel inside of me. I slowly sit up---I don't know how long I've been like this, but my back hurts---stretch a bit, then I'm careful to move Lissy's sore hand, the one with the IVs in it, back over and hold on to her good one. "I'm sorry," I tell her, another asinine thing to say, but I can't think of anything else right at the moment.

"Me, too," she murmurs. I brush her hair back, cradle her cheek against my palm, feel her tears against my skin. She can't hold them back any longer. "We don't even know if it was a boy or a girl," I whisper hoarsely, and she closes her eyes for a moment, turns her head away from me, as I wipe her tears away and watch more spill over to take their place. We'll never know but it doesn't matter; both of us would have loved it the same.

"You're safe in here...Mark and David are out there watching over things...I'll stay here, not leave you until we can get you home...got you this private room...they wanted to put you in fucking Maternity, can you imagine...?" I know I'm rambling but can't stop myself. She's still unable to meet my eyes, so I ask her to look at me, beg her, and she turns back to me with that bleak expression that breaks my heart.

"We'll have another one, sweetheart, as soon as you're ready...it will be okay, the doctor says..." Yet another totally dumb, almost insensitive thing to say. But I'm trying to reassure her everything will be all right, even though I don't know if it will be myself. Still, it's in me to protect her, to try to keep her from harm, and in my own misguided way, that's what I'm trying to do. She closes her eyes, I feel her slipping away, and I make this sort of choking sound. Her eyes fly open then to see me coming apart again, I'm now crying openly.

"Russ..." she whispers, lifting her hand to touch me, and that's when neither of us can bear our individual pain alone, we have to be together, have to be experiencing it as one. I climb onto the bed with her, careful of her IVs and her tired, aching self, and hold her close to me. She burrows deep into my embrace as we both lay there, huddled into each other, and cry our hearts out, locked in each other's arms.

After the two of us have expended every last ounce of energy we possess into getting all of our hurt out through our tears, we must've fallen asleep, 'cause when I wake up for a second time, I'm still jammed into that hospital bed with my wife and she's sleeping in my arms.

Sleep is the best thing for Liss right now, so I cautiously move her over, slip out of the bed, and sit back in the chair at her side. I feel like the bottom's completely dropped out of my world; there's nothing left but a hollow emptiness. Well, there's still the love I feel for Lissy, deep down within me, but no other feelings right now. I don't know how to describe it except to say that there's just this dark void, where I've ceased to live and merely exist at this point in time.

When you stand there on your wedding day, about to be married to the person you love more than anything else in your life, and you say the lines, 'for better or for worse', you're not expecting to really ever find out what the 'worse' is. I mean, you're promising to hold onto that person through it all, through the entire gamut of it, but trust me, you don't ever think, at that moment, that you're gonna both discover what the worst thing could ever possibly be.

And then, when the two of you decide that you want to begin a family, well, first off, you don't think that you'd have a problem conceiving---not that we seemed to, this happened right when we decided to do it, but I know that it's something a lot of

folks seem to go through---and then, if you're one of the lucky ones who get pregnant straightaway, the thought never crosses your mind that you would lose that child before it's born, or have less than a perfect, healthy child. I mean, it's just not something you take into consideration. So when it does happen, when you find out things aren't going right and that there's not a fucking thing you can do to change that, it leaves you with this sort of numb shock that I'm experiencing right now.

I think Liss is going to be out for a while again, so I step out into the hall and speak briefly with Mark, tell him I want to go back to the apartment and pick up some things for both of us if we're going to be here for awhile. He offers to go but it's something small I can do, so I want to do it. David says he'll stay with Lissy in case she wakes before I get back, and the hospital's even got their security kinda keeping an eye on us, so Mark and I leave. So far, so good...no word's been leaked to the press and I hope that I have the chance to get Liss home before they even know she's been here at all.

Once there, I hurriedly pack things into a bag for the both of us, extra clothes and whatever I think we might need. When I go into the bathroom to pick up our toiletries, I notice that someone's bought new rugs for the floor. It wasn't like Liss bled copious amounts onto the carpet, but there were some stains from when she was lying there, and I thank Mark or David for having the foresight to remove those and replace them with new ones. I know that while I've been spending time with my wife the two of them have been, as always, working things out behind the scenes, and I'm grateful to them for that, 'cause I'm really not able to think things out straight just yet.

When we get back, David tells me she's slept the whole time. I can see how worried he is for her; he really does feel like a dad to her. They leave me alone with her and not too long thereafter, while I'm just sitting there, she stirs and then opens her eyes to look into mine.

"How're you feeling, love?" 

She stretches and winces a little. "I...have to go use the bathroom." 

Since she's still hooked up to the IVs this might require a little strategy. So I help her sit up and move to the edge of the bed, then stand...she's so wobbly and shaky that she has to lean on me for support, me with one arm around her and steering her IV unit with the other hand, and we move slowly and purposefully into the bathroom.

"Want me to stay?" She blushes, a little, shakes her head. "I can manage." 

So I close the door, give her some privacy, but I'm waiting right out there in case she needs me, and after a few moments I hear the toilet flush; another few and then there's kind of a clattering sound from the IV pole; I barely wait another moment and then I can hear her retching, chundering her guts up in there.

I burst through the door after ringing for the nurse; Liss is on her knees in front of the toilet, heaving, but since she hasn't eaten much recently, not a lot is coming up. Still, I kneel behind her, one arm around her waist to support her, the other hand on her forehead to keep her from hitting her face with the spasms that are wracking her fragile body, and I let her ride it out. She's then trembling, crying softly; the nurse is waiting in the bathroom doorway but I don't say anything to her, just stroke Lissy's hair and murmur to her, comforting her.  "Think you can stand?" After a moment, she nods, I help her to the sink, wash her face off, help her rinse her mouth, and then she almost collapses against me again. To the nurse, "Can you help us, please?" and she manoeuvres the IV unit while I gently pick Liss up in my arms and carry her back to her bed.

Her eyes are closed as I lay her back down and cover her; I think she's almost embarrassed and ashamed I saw her in that state. Fuck it, I'm her husband. Though it breaks what's left of my heart to witness her this way. The nurse checks her over, asks if she wants another sedative, and she tells her no; then she tells the both of us to ring if we need her again and leaves us alone once more.

The door's cracked open; both Mark and David are peering in with anxious faces. "Liss..." I'm still stroking her hair; she opens her eyes and looks at me. Very quietly, I tell her, "The blokes are out there worrying about you...do you think you're up to seeing them for just a bit?"

She nods; I motion to them to come in and they do, Mark approaching her first, David kind of hanging in the background. Lissy, bless her, attempts a smile for him, and though I know his heart's twisted in a knot like mine is at seeing her like this, he smiles back at her, gives her a careful hug and kisses her forehead. "Gave us quite a fright," he says, trying to keep things light and gentle. I move back to give them some space and a spot of private time; I hear him tell her, "Glad you're all right," and then, still holding her, he's talking quietly to her, I can't hear what else he's saying. Tears come into Lissy's eyes and she nods, he does a good job caring for her, too, and they're pretty close.

Then he moves back and David comes forward; Lissy smiles at him, too, and though I know the despair she still feels inside, seeing that is like a bit of sunlight coming in through the darkness. She holds on to him, too, as he speaks to her, and though she's now openly crying again, whatever these two have said to her has brought her a measure of peace.

They've decided to sort of spell each other here; hospital security's gonna be helping out and so Mark and David have decided to take shifts with us, one here for us during the day, one at night. When they ask if we have a preference, neither of us do; so they go back out to work things out amongst themselves and we're left alone again.

I look at her and she looks at me and neither of us knows what to say to each other. It's not like things are awkward; I mean, we're married, for Christ's sakes, and there's not a lot hidden between us, but we're both tired and hurting. Leaning over, I press a light, tender kiss to her mouth, taking her good hand in mine, and she briefly reaches with her other one, touches my cheek, before she lowers it to her side again.

"I love you, sweetheart," I tell her. 

"I love you, too," she answers back. 

Sometimes, that's all you can say. Sometimes, that says it all. 

We sit there in silence again. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but there's not much we can say that won't cause us additional pain. I suspect Lissy's got about as much weighing on her mind as I do, but to talk about anything mundane would be just that: meaningless; and to talk about what happened will just open up the wounds that haven't even begun to heal.

Finally, I tell her, "I rang Mum and Dad, and I'm sorry, love; I rang your Mum, too, and told them." 

"Why would you be sorry?" 

"Maybe you would have wanted to tell her yourself. I wasn't sure of your feelings about that but I thought we had better let all of them know. So I called her and we talked. They all want to speak to you, when you feel up to it. I..."

"I'm not angry you called her, Russell. This...is...something that happened to both of us." She sighs, the sound so weary and so full of defeat. "It...would have been...their grandchild...they have a right to know. Although I can't talk to them right now...I just can't."

Leaning over, I kiss her again. "They'll understand, Liss." 

"Are they coming here?"

"No...I thought it best if none of them showed up here...but if you..."

"It's okay." Then, "Who knows?"

"Right now...just our folks, I assume our siblings and other immediate family, and Mark and David. That's all. I'm probably gonna have to tell some other people, Liss, because I don't want to go back to work, and they're gonna have to have a valid reason why. I don't know who else you want to know..."

"I trust you to know who to tell, Russell." Our circle around us is fairly tight; and Lissy's right, there aren't a whole lot of people who need to know the entire story. She looks at me with those huge, dark brown eyes again and says quietly, "Though I don't want any flowers, any cards...anyone coming to visit...I just want to be left alone."

Though maybe that might not sound entirely healthy to you, I know how she feels. I kind of feel the same way. And I know she doesn't mean she wants ME to leave her alone, but then she closes her eyes and she's trying not to cry again. So I ask her, "Do you want some space, angel?" and she nods, still not looking at me. So I run my hand over her hair and give her another brief kiss before stepping outside.

Mark's on duty; he jumps up when he sees me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I stare at a point on the floor between my feet. "She needs some time to herself for a bit." 

He nods, then, motioning to a security guard nearby to take over watching the room, "Listen, mate, can we talk for a moment?"

"I don't really want to talk about anything right now..." but I let him drag me into an empty room nearby and shut the door. Gotta tell you, he's about the only one who can strong-arm me like that. "Fine," Mark says, "then you listen and I'll talk. Maybe it's none of my business..."

"It's none of your fucking business." I get the feeling I'm not going to like what he's going to say. 

"Right, it's none of my fucking business what goes on between you two. It's not. But I have to say one thing and one thing only, and it's the same thing I told her. The two of you have got to hang on to each other. This thing, it's either going to tear you apart or it's gonna bring you closer together than you could have ever imagined. But it's up to you to decide which way it's gonna go. I saw you when she left. It damn fucking near killed you. This will, too, and it will her, if you let yourselves drift apart over this."

What he says makes absolute bloody sense. But you...he...no one...has any idea how broken up I am, how helpless I feel right now. I look at him. "I don't know what to do," I confess. "I don't know what to say."

"You just love her. With all you've got. Let her know that. If that's all you can do, that's all you can fucking do, but mate, you've gotta do something. Don't let her be alone in this." He looks me dead on in the face. "Don't let yourself be alone in this."

I know he's right; but damn it, I don't know where to begin. 

When I come back, Liss is sitting up in bed and when she sees me, the whole world's reflected in her eyes. I get the feeling that I'm what's keeping her holding on, just as she's doing the same for me. And I think of what Mark said, that the two of us need to stay strong for each other.

"They brought your bed..." she gestures to one of those kind of portable contraptions that have a mattress about two inches thick; but I doubt I'll be sleeping much while we're here anyway, and like I told ya, I'd sleep under Lissy's bed on the floor like a dog if that's what it came down to.

I try to lighten the mood up, hope she doesn't think I'm being insensitive. Because my heart's still shattering into a million tiny pieces, and I wonder if she can see that in my own eyes. "They won't let me sleep with you?"

She gets a tiny smile. She understands. "I asked, and they told me no." 

Coming over to sit beside her, I kiss her and touch the tip of her nose with my finger. "Well, once we're home, I'm gonna hold you all night; and I'm never gonna let you go."

"I would like that." 

"Me too, sweetheart." 

Another bout of silence. Then Liss quietly observes, "We haven't even been here twenty-four hours."

In that time span our lives have been altered forever. "At least now we know what's wrong, and we can get you better, love." I'm not meaning to sound insensitive again, but if I were to have to talk about...the baby...right now, it'd tear me up all over. Still, Lissy knows what I mean; she's always been able to see straight into my heart. She's hurting so much too and I wish I could take that from her.

"I swear to you I didn't know, Russell." 

I know she didn't. With everything that' s happened between us recently, there's no way she would have, not with her body behaving in such an erratic fashion; and there's no way she'd have kept anything like this from me. We both wanted it too badly. Shaking my head, I gently shush her. "I believe you, Liss. Try not to think about it."

"If I'd known...that might have made a difference. You tried to get me to go to the doctor's sooner, and I didn't listen. I thought I was genuinely sick, not pregnant-sick."

I am not going to let my wife blame herself. Her body's failed her, not let her hang on to this child and keep it inside of her, but it's not her fault. There was a bunch of other stuff going on and really, I feel like that mostly I'm to blame for all of that, but never Lissy. "I don't think...this was...really normal, Liss. So...of course you wouldn't have suspected...anything else. There wouldn't have been a reason to."

"I hope..." she struggles to speak, has to compose herself before trying again. "I hope...the baby...knew we loved it. That we wanted it so much." She's like me, neither one of us are religious people, but we both are spiritual, and we both deeply believe in God. Never mind that it didn't develop far enough along to have a true identity, it was still ours, our child, and from the moment we created it, it was a life. I nod, trying not to cry again. "I know it did, angel. I'm positive it did."

This seems to give her a tiny bit of peace, a small measure of comfort. I get the feeling that that's what we're going to cling to in the next little while; any miniscule thing that allows us to feel that between ourselves.

That first night the two of us spend in the hospital is the worst. At least for me, it is. Lissy was offered another sedative and she took it; I reckon she figured if she didn't she wouldn't be able to sleep at all. They didn't offer me one, and I probably should have asked for one. I lie there in the semi-darkness and all I have time to do is think. About Lissy, about us, our relationship, and as much as it hurts me, about this baby.

I feel good about my relationship with Liss now. It was fucking hard without her. I struggled for the longest time and it was only then that I realised how much I need her; how much I need her love. But despite the fact both of us really want children, I'm not sure I could go through heartache like this again; even though the doctors have said that a second pregnancy probably would turn out differently, I don't know if I would be able to endure the chance that it wouldn't; that this would happen to us again. I don't know how Liss feels about it but I'm afraid of her getting pregnant a second time. I nearly lost her today and I don't want to risk that anymore.

That may sound selfish but you don't know what this feels like; I know I've tried to describe it but I doubt there are any words to convey how deep and how awful pain like this is. And what's worse is, witnessing it within my wife; the one person I love with my whole being and the one person I would do anything to keep agony like this from.

The helplessness is the most horrible part. Before, I was always the one Lissy could lean on, the one who was strong, and, if I wasn't able to make something right, well, by god, I'd bloody well work on it until I could. It's not that she's not a strong person. Behind her quiet, reflective demeanour is one of the toughest, most fiercely loyal and loving people I've ever known. But it's the fact that now, I feel absolutely powerless to do a damn thing for her and I don't know how to deal with that.

The next day, while Lissy's being looked over by Dr. Moran, I seek out Dr. Connor in his office in the medical centre adjacent to the hospital. David's on day duty today, and though I know he's torn between watching over Lissy and accompanying me, he chose me. The press still apparently hasn't found out about her, either that or the hospital's doing a bang-up job keeping them away. Things are quiet 'round here, and I'm glad.

The receptionist is dumbfounded when I walk in; though she quickly composes herself and tells me the doctor's between patients and rounds right now, I've caught him at a rare moment in the office, and he can see me. Don't know if this is entirely true or it's because of who I am; but I don't give a damn about this right now. While I don't know him very well, the bloke took care of my wife, did what he could for our baby, and I'm extremely grateful to him for that. It's not that I couldn't talk to Dr. Moran; but as my wife's regular doctor, I don't want to chance she tell Lissy what I wanted to know about; she needs to concentrate on getting well, and not be burdened by anything else.

If Dr. Connor is surprised to see me, he doesn't show it. After we shake hands, he gestures to a chair. "Please, sit down, Mr. Crowe. I'm planning to get with Dr. Moran for some follow-up later today, but Lisa seems to be improving, and I think we're looking at her possibly going home tomorrow or the day thereafter."

"Thanks. And it's Russell, definitely. No formalities, mate." 

He nods. And then waits for me to bring up the reason for my visit. 

Taking a deep breath, I decide to just jump right in. "Could prior emotional stress...could it cause a miscarriage?"

This bloke, he'd make a great card player because I'm fairly certain my question caught him off-guard, however, he still doesn't show that. He ruminates on what I've asked, and then responds, quietly and honestly. I like him. At least he's not trying to bullshit me about anything; he hasn't thus far, and I trust him.

"Well, as you well know, physical stress is a direct factor in contributing to a possible miscarriage. I told you that sometimes there is no real medical reason for it happening, other than the child not developing properly. But certainly, unhealthy physical practices by the mother could lead to this as well.

Now, there haven't been a whole lot of scientific studies, but I do believe that yes, emotional issues could be a contributing factor in this. The mother, because she might be dealing with so much emotionally, might neglect to look after her physical well-being. She might not take precautions she would normally if her mental health were sound. I don't know that emotional distress would be a direct cause, but it might have something to do with weakening the physical state in supporting another life."

I feel the air's been knocked out of my lungs. And I feel the guilt swamping me, pressing down on me like a heavy lead weight. Dr. Connor looks directly at me and I feel he's able to read my thoughts. Though he doesn't look accusatory, only deeply concerned.

"Mr. Crowe...Russell...please stop me if you feel I'm speaking quite out of line. Right now, I know you're worried about your wife. But...you might need to seek help as well. The best place to turn would be towards her; after all, this is something you're both going through, it's something you're sharing together, as painful as it is, and only your partner can truly understand what you might be experiencing emotionally at this time. If for any reason whatsoever, you feel that this isn't possible, there are excellent counsellors that are available here you might speak to. They handle individuals, couples, or else there is a group that meets, of parents who've lost children, and they handle things on a larger level. Of course, given your...position...I'm not sure a group might work for the two of you. But, I can't stress how important it is that the two of you are able to work through your grief. The impact will be far-reaching if you don't. I understand that, once she is released, you will be taking her back to your farm further up north. There are individuals there I can also recommend if you would like..."

I nod. I know he's right, but, as I felt when Mark talked to me, I fucking don't know where to start, or which way to turn. I thank him and then leave to go back to be with Liss.  David falls into step beside me as we return to the main part of the hospital.

"Good news?" he asks hopefully as we head back to her room. 

"Might get to take her home in a day or so." I'm still going over in my mind all that the doctor told me; and while one part of me understands that maybe this is all part of God's plan; that we somehow and for whatever reason weren't meant to have this baby, a part of me still feels the terrible crushing guilt that if we hadn't separated just months ago, Liss wouldn't have been under such emotional duress and things would've been okay.

Lissy brightens as soon as I walk in the door. Though I can still see the painful sadness deep inside her eyes, her smile lights up the rest of her face and it warms the frozen regions of my soul. I come to her, sit on the edge of the bed, and take her in my arms, holding her tight to me. I'm pleased to see they've taken out her IVs and she's now wearing my old flannie instead of the hospital gown, just like she always does when we're home and in bed; seeing her looking more familiar calms me down somewhat. As does the feel of her against me. She turns her head, kisses my cheek, and when I look at her, ruffling her short hair, she says, "What?"

"I just want to get you home with me, sweetheart." I kiss her on the lips and then nuzzle her face. "I love you." 

"I love you." If life could be simply about that, love, being with Lissy and holding her, everything would be fine. But I feel the weight of the world pushing in, threatening and hovering over us, and I wonder how long I can keep it at bay.