"Cameron." I don't know if it's the panic in my wife's voice or the pinch on my bare chest that jolts me from my sleep.

"What's wrong?" I can hear the grogginess in my own voice.

"It's the baby." Amelia's statement causes me to fling myself up like a madman.

"Oh, God, no." I find myself praying aloud as I blindly search for the lamp. I feel myself starting to panic as my shaking hand finds the switch for the light. "Please, God, not again." I'm begging as I carelessly throw our blanket onto the floor before turning to my wife; all while preparing myself for a devastating scene.

Blood. That time all those years ago, there was so much blood. This time, there is none.

Amelia, still lying down, frowns when my eyes meet hers.

"Are you okay?" My eyes again search for blood, it was everywhere last time.

"Cameron!" She shouts, sitting up, wide eyed when grab the hem of her nightgown. When I lift her gown, she squeaks, grabbing my hand and bringing it to her stomach.

Light pressure rapidly appears for a few seconds before disappearing and then appearing again.

Tears start to fill my eyes as relief floods my veins. Too many emotions hit me at once and I'm unable to stop the cry of agony that rips through me.

Amelia, staying silent, pulls me down to her lap while allowing my hand to stay connected with her stomach. Norah's kicks becoming stronger along with my cries start to die down as my wife starts to drag her fingers through my hair.

"She's gonna be a soccer player just like you." My wife breaks the silence that fell around us after I was able to compose myself.

I hum an uncommitted response, waiting for another kick. They've slowed down but I want more.

"One more Norah." I whisper, against Amelia's stomach. "Give Daddy one more strong kick."

Seconds later, Amelia gasps and I feel a good amount of pressure against my hand.

"I love you too." I chuckle, my lips brushing the silk nightgown as I talk.

I glance up at Amelia to see her sad eyes watching me. "Not again?" She mimics my panicked words from almost an hour ago.

"Not tonight." I shake my head, my chest still aching and now my head. "I can't tonight."

Amelia doesn't say anything, simply nodding, as I move to grab the blanket from the floor.

Silently, we get situated and I quickly turn the light out, staying rolled over, my back to Amelia.

All I want to do I pull her to me, kiss her, love her, tell her how much I need her. But I can't, so I stay still.

My body tenses on its own accord when my wife's arms wrap around me, a position we're not often in.

"We named him Oliver." I whisper, suddenly feeling the need to explain. "You were eighteen weeks."

"We're you gonna tell me?" She questions softly, not seeming to be angry, only curious and sad.

"No." I tell her honestly. "I figured I'd save you the heartache if you didn't remember. Although, we visit him on his birthday each year so you would have found out." I add as an afterthought. "He would be almost seven." At first it was hard, and with Amelia and I being the only ones who knew, we carried the weight on our own. "We decided not to tell the kids so they don't know. We had been on a family vacation in Paris, so no one else knew either."

She's quiet for a while causing me to start to drift off with the thought that the conversation is over.

"I'm sorry." It's a broken whisper that makes me roll to face her. "I feel like I'm right in the center of so many painful things."

"No, you are the center of every bit of happiness I have ever experienced." My hands grip her face. I can't see anything but when my thumbs brush her cheeks, I feel a trail of wetness. "I'm nothing with out you."

"I-" I feel her mouth form a frown as she doesn't continue her words. "I'm sorry that you have so much to bear, I want to make the load lighter."

Her words make me frown. "I don't want a lighter load, Amelia. That would mean I don't have you." My left hand moves from her face to her stomach. "Or the joys you bring."

"I just mean that I want to help you carry it all." She whispers back to me. "I-I can help, if you let me."

"We can go see him tomorrow if you want." I offer, feeling like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

"Let's go next week." She responds hesitantly. "After your birthday. I think it will be better then."

"Mm." I hum in approval. "When ever you want."

"Good night." She whispers, resting her face against my chest and I'm able to drift off with the feel of her against me.

"Amelia." I approach my wife as she sits by the small gravestone that lies at the edge of our familial plot.

Her silence causes me to sigh as I sit next to her. Once I've settled myself in the grass I look to her. Wisps of her blonde hair move with the wind and the black sweater she's wearing almost swallows her. Her pale, makeup less face, looks up to me, her sad eyes holding a clear question.

"I told your mother we had stuff we needed to catch up on before asking her to pick the kids up from school."

She nods, looking away. Every fiber of my being itches to pull her to me. My heart aches at how broken she looks and I'm angry at the fact that I can't fix this. She hasn't been able to look at me theses past three days and I feel as though I've lost not only my child, but also my wife.

Amelia suddenly gasps before bursting into tears and I don't hesitate to reach out and pull her into my arms.

"I'm sorry." She cries, gripping the lapels of my jacket. "I'm sorry I couldn't carry him. I'm sorry I lost your son." Her face is pressed into my chest and I can feel the tears soak through my shirt.

"Amelia," my voice breaks as I sit her up so I can see her eyes. "Amelia, please look at me. This is not your fault." I shake her lightly in an attempt to get my point across. "This happens. Okay, it happens to people everyday."

"It should have been me." Her crystal orbs fill with tears.

"No," I frantically cry out remembering my prayer from two days ago. 'Not her.' I had begged, callously reminding myself that we could have more children. "Amelia, I wouldn't know how to continue without you."

She pulls away suddenly, a frantic look in her eyes. "What if I can't have children now?"

"Then we'll adopt, that seems to work just as nicely."

With a sniffle she lays against my chest again. "I love you." I whisper into her hair, tightly holding her. "We'll get through this and we can try again when you're ready."

And six moths later we did.

***