Two Ticking Towards Three

…Tyler POV…

It has been two hours. Two hours. Fuck. Time is just going by. It is only six hours to go. I am still trying to convince myself that my body can win this. But each time, as I look in the mirror and I see something new that is slipping away, I am losing hope.

The only thing that is not losing hope is Jenna. She is fighting for both of us. She is here beyond what is even required.

From the moment I met her, I knew I'd love her forever, that she was something precious, perfect. After three months of marriage, I still get butterflies when I look into her eyes. She has made me a better person, given me a more fulfilled life, and given me a happiness that I didn't know existed.

Our lives have changed immensely since that frightening, confusing, life-changing day. That morning was normal, happy. We had everything going for us. It almost feels like our lives went on pause and have been on pause ever since. It all happened so fast.

I was so confused and scared; I know she was, too. I know that she was just as thrown off her feet, despairing, fearful. I know it took everything from her not to break down like I was when the Doctor told us. I know she wanted to break down, too, but she didn't. Instantly, she let me fall into her arms, where she told me it was all going to be all right, that she is in this with me, together. She was there for me.

While I was too distraught, too sad to ask, understand or listen to the Doctor, she was there to ask questions, find out all that she could, and what to do for my new diagnosis.

So many things to think about; life was going to change so much. I think about our unborn baby often. If I didn't survive, I was going to be leaving her to raise our child on her own.

She gained a new role. She was not just my wife but my caretaker, too.

She has made it almost impossible to be sad. She made everything so much better. She always does.

I often think that this all has to be harder on her. I know I go through and experience everything physically, but I hope she knows I totally mean it when I say she has made this horrible experience bearable. MORE than bearable. Almost easy.

She has made it almost impossible to be sad. She keeps me so positive, and she keeps my mind completely off of it. When I do get sad, she is so unbelievably comforting. When I'm sick, she is superwoman; she almost takes my sickness away by doing everything she cans to take away the pain.

She has stayed with me throughout my hospital stay. She has researched all she can to help me through this.

The dizziness and the unbearable headaches have only become worse. I am devastated; I can’t bear it. I know she wants to drop to her knees. But she didn't.

Once again, she is there for me. I can cry into your arms as she comforts me. She stays with me; she helped me deal with all the pain and suffering that I am feeling. She makes everything so much better. She always does.

When I tell her my fears and anxieties about death, she reassures me that there's nothing to worry about, that we're going to beat this. Sometimes, she actually convinces me that it will all be okay and that there's no way I'm going to die from this. But I know she worries about it, too. I know it's in the back of her mind, but she has to stay strong for me.

While it's heart-wrenching to think about or imagine, I know it's a real possibility. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave her. I don't want to leave our child. The thought of leaving her is so overwhelming; I can't stand it. My heart breaks to think of heer without me. But the reality is that it's a possibility. Although it's hard to think about, it is such a relief to me to know that my child will be more than all right. I know that with her, my child will grow up smart, happy, loved, successful, and well cared for. That would be one of my wishes if I am gone, but because of her, it's not a worry.

Jenna, there are no words ever to describe how thankful I am for her. What she does for me is amazing. What she is going through with me is rough, but she keeps a beautiful, contagious smile on your face. I want her to know how unbelievably grateful I am to have her in my life. She is absolutely the best thing that I've ever had in my life.

I met when I least expected, at the age of twenty-nine, just when I thought I gave up on love. I think I loved her from the start. A year later, we were married. For three months, we have been husband and wife. Our life is full of numbers. The good ones are the birthdays we've shared, the wedding anniversaries, all three of them. Then there are the bad, like the size of the blood clot on my brain.

My diagnosis was devastating to me, but not for the reasons she might think. As I sat there absorbing more numbers, this time my survival statistics, I could feel her grief. She didn't show it; she is much too strong for that. But it was there in the slump of her shoulders as it dawned on her that I'd just been diagnosed.

She held my hand when I started crying, and I remember thinking that I must have done something truly breathtaking in another life to have found her in this one. To be there with me, sharing this awful moment, the stuff of nightmares, when everything was crashing down around us.

In the day that followed, I drifted away from her as I tried to envisage what a future with without her would look like. I disconnected. I'll never know how she found the strength to do that. To carry on as normal, knowing what she did.

I'm so sorry I was distant. I was trying to pull away in case the unimaginable happened. To make it easier for her to move on. But I know now that our kind of love will never be neatly slotted into a file. There was no lack of understanding from her, no blame, just a sense that I'd figure it all out eventually. She was right. We needed to unite, hold the line, and face this battle together.

Sometimes I think illness is hardest on the families. At least I have a goal. A target. A treatment plan. I have hope.

Of all my life choices, she is the best. Many would have walked away. She stays because that's the sort of woman she is, not out of a sense of duty but because the thought of leaving never even crosses her mind.

Her humility is legendary. She also has the ability to laugh and talk nonsense until four in the morning, yet no one could accuse her of pretense. She is the only woman who can make me laugh until I'm begging for mercy. I've cried more happy tears during our marriage than any other sort.

I don't know what our future holds. I hope with all my heart that I can be a part of it for as long as I can.

I have a promise for her, a guarantee that I'll fight this with everything I have because I refuse to accept that our numbers end here.

"I love you" will never be enough to tell her how I feel for her. But I love you, Jenna Moore; I LOVE YOU with all my heart, forever.

So as I repeat this over and over in my head, I try to remind myself that you can't have healing without sickness. Your body can stand almost anything; it is your mind that you need to convince.

So as we tick into the next hour, I take her hand in mine; I can see that she has been crying. She is trying to be so strong, yet I know that she is slowly dying.

“Jenna, I am not going to lie to you; I am terrified.”

She fumble to find her voice, but then she reminds herself that she cannot fall apart, “Tyler, I just cannot lose you.”

“Hey,” I reach out and softly touch her cheek as I wipe the tears away, “Nobody is dying.”

“Please,” she begs as she only shakes her head. “Please don’t make any promises that you cannot keep.”