“He was so small,” she whispers, fighting back the tears.
“You saw him?”
She nods. I kiss her forehead and stroke her face.
The only thing more agonizing than getting in to see Mia is waiting to hear how our son is. This is such a stark contrast from Aubrey’s delivery. We experienced everything you expect when you’re going to meet your baby for the first time: labor, pushing, first cry, holding her immediately, cutting the cord. None of that happened today. But what’s worse is we have no clue what his health looks like.
If he’ll even make it.
I swallow hard at the thought, willing my brain to never think those words again. He’s a Collins. He’s a fighter. He’s going to make it.
Mia is wheeled into recovery before the doctor comes in to give us the information we desperately seek. “Alright, your son is going to have to stay in the NICU for the time being. He’s having a hard time breathing on his own because his lungs are underdeveloped, which is expected because they’re the last things to develop during pregnancy. He has a low birth weight of three pounds, seven ounces. He’s not able to eat on his own yet, so we have a feeding tube that runs up his nose. He also needs help regulating his temperature, so he’s under a heater to keep him warm. Overall though, he’s doing pretty well given how early he is. As long as there are no complications, I expect him to be fine, but I would prepare for a long road. He won’t be going home in a few days, or even in a week. He could be here for a while.”
We both nod our understanding, taking in all of this information.
“Do you guys have any questions?”
“When can we see him?” Mia asks.
He smiles. “I’ll have a nurse take you to him.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Mia says quietly when the doctor leaves.
“Yes, he is.”
I know Mia said he was small, but I wasn’t prepared for what I’m seeing as we’re brought to his incubator. “Oh my God. He’s tiny,” I say in astonishment, taking in our small baby with wires connected all over him. “Can we hold him?”
“Not yet. We need to make sure his blood pressure and heart rate are stable before moving him around. If everything goes well, the doctor should clear you to hold him tomorrow. But feel free to reach in and hold his hand and talk to him. Babies recognize their mother’s voice, so it’ll comfort him to know you’re here.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t want to leave him. He’s alone in here and I don’t want him to think we abandoned him. If babies can recognize their mother’s voice, then they must also recognize its absence. Fuck, this is breaking my heart.
I reach in through the hole and touch his tiny hand that is the size of my thumb. When his little fingers wrap around it, a new sense of hope comes over me. It’s like a sign he really is going to make it out of this. We all are.
“Hi, baby boy. It’s Mommy,” Mia says in a soothing voice as she strokes the bottom of his foot. “We’re right here, okay?”
“You know what I just realized?” I ask her.
“What?”
“We never picked out a name for him.”
“I was thinking about that earlier. You know I like the name Michael.”
Mia and I argued over names ever since we found out we were having a boy. Naming Aubrey was so easy. I don’t know why this time around is so difficult. “And I like the name Chris.”
“I think having my body cut open gives my vote more weight, just sayin’.” Really? Is she going to play that card all the time now? “Plus, have you thought out Chris? Chris Collins? I don’t like the way that sounds.” I roll my eyes. “What’s wrong with Michael?”
“Nothing.”
“Then it’s decided.” She perks up, smiling bright.
“Uh, no. I didn’t say I agreed to it.”
“What about Michael Frank Collins? Frank for your dad.”
I focus on her, touched by the sentiment. The corners of my mouth twitch and I agree. “Okay, Michael Frank Collins it is.” She leans in and gives me a kiss and then turns her attention back to our tiny baby.
Mia’s wheeled back to her room when our visit with Michael is over. While the nurse is checking up on her, I step outside her room to call my mom. She picks up on the second ring.
“How’s the baby?” she rushes out. Mia sent a group text to our family when we were on our way to the hospital.
“He’s doing okay.” I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to calm myself. “Mom, I’m freaking out. I’m trying so damn hard to hold it together for Mia, but I feel myself cracking on the inside.” I swallow hard keeping my emotions down. “I’m afraid I’m going to break and I don’t know what to do.”
“Listen to me,” she says firmly. “You are so much stronger than you know. Think of that fearless kid who pushed his best friend out of the way of a car, or the little boy who stood up to a bully and defended his friend. I know this is hard. You’re afraid for your baby, and that’s okay.”
“I feel so helpless. No matter what I do, nothing is going to magically make Michael better. I want to take his pain and struggle away and have a healthy baby.”
“I know, honey. But instead of wishing you could take the pain for him, be his strength so he can get through it on his own. You all are going to make it, you just have to have faith.”
I’m still scared shitless, but my heart has slowed and the feeling of panic has subsided. “Thanks, Mom.” I didn’t realize how much I needed that until now.
“That’s what I’m here for. So, you named him Michael?”
With a small smile on my face, I tell her his full name. I could hear the emotion in her voice when his middle name registered with her. After promising to send her updates, I hang up and return to my wife.
The time came and went for Mia to go home. It was the strangest thing to have a baby, but leave the hospital empty handed. Michael was nowhere near ready to go, but we went back to the hospital every day to visit him. Some days we’d bring Aubrey and some days we’d come alone.
Watching him hit new milestones in his health was always encouraging. Like the first time he ate from a bottle. It was three weeks after he was born and a huge step in his improvement, but also showed he was that much closer to coming home with us.
Nine weeks after his surprise entry into this world, we’re heading to the hospital for the last time. The doctors are happy with his progress and told us yesterday they are releasing him.
If I said these weeks have been easy, I’d be lying. It’s been emotionally tasking on all of us. The days at the hospital were endless and the nights sleepless as we hoped the next day would bring good news and he’d come home. I took Mom’s advice and used it to be the rock my family needed, so when Mia finally broke down, I was there to pick her up and assure her everything was going to be okay.
“I can’t believe it’s finally here. We get to take him home!” Mia all but squeals. Her voice vibrates with excitement, but I feel the same way. This is a long time coming and I can’t wait to make my family whole again.
“I know, me neither. Are you excited for your brother to come home, Aubrey?” I ask, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“Yep! I’m going to be the bestest sister ever!” I smile at her enthusiasm.
I want to freeze this moment in time. Looking at Aubrey, I know how fast they grow up. I swear it was just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital. Now she’s almost four. Mia and I sit on the couch, Michael in her arms and Aubrey on my lap. I pull my phone out from my back pocket and hold it out with my arm. I snap a picture, the sound of a camera shutter getting their attention.
“Smile everyone.” I take one more before putting my phone away. We’re definitely framing that one because right now, my life has never felt so complete. This right here is what it’s all about. Through the obstacles and struggles, we remain strong and hold each other together. I wish I could say I was the glue, but it’s all Mia. She’s stronger and more
determined than I could ever hope to be. She always has been. There were days at the hospital I felt so discouraged every time the doctors would tell us he’s not ready. I was frustrated and broken. But Mia was always there with a comforting touch, ensuring me Michael was going to come home soon and be healthier than ever. And now, here he is.
In our arms.
At our home.
Exactly where he should be.
Present
Something behind me cracks and breaks, making a sharp noise that brings me back to the present. As the last twenty-five years of my life flash before my eyes, I realize that I don’t have a single memory without Mia in it. Everything I am, everything I want to be, centers around her.
I start coughing uncontrollably, the smoke getting thicker around me.
“Does. Anyone. Copy?” I try again, struggling with each word. I’m met with more silence.
Fucking mountain.
I look above me and the sky is almost solid black. In my zoned-out state, I didn’t notice it creeping up on me. This could be bad.
Checking my chest, I see my emergency beacon is still flashing. Where the hell are you guys? With each second that passes, the chances of me making it out of here are dwindling. I’ve got to move again.
“Urghh!” I grunt out as I use energy I didn’t know I had to drag myself some more. My body doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it used to, but I know it’s messed up beyond belief. If the initial fall didn’t do it, me moving all over this godforsaken mountain surely did. Fuck, this is bad.
My chest hurts as I continue to cough; the taste of smoke in the back of my mouth. After pulling myself for a little while longer, I lift my head and see another ledge not too far away. If I can get myself to it, maybe it’ll give me a better picture of the situation here.
My legs are useless.
They only serve as an anchor as I use every muscle in my arms and shoulders to drag my heavy body across the dirt.
Any progress forward is a huge milestone. The exertion causes me to pant and cough until I’m completely out of breath, which makes this that much more difficult.
I pause to take a break.
The ledge feels like a mile away and I’m not sure I have the energy to go any further. My breaths are labored, polluting my lungs with the poison in the air. My eyes squeeze shut and I grit my teeth, preparing myself to move some more.
I’m not sure how long it takes me to reach the ledge. All I know is every bump, every twig, every rock in my path is a huge obstacle to crawl across. My chest is raw from the abuse I’ve put it through. Lifting my head one more time, I look out over the edge and my heart sinks, as does hope.
Fire stretches as far as the eye can see.
I guess it whipped around and started burning up toward this way. Now it’s coming at me from all sides. Unless they get a helicopter out here fast to evacuate me, I don’t know I’ll survive this.
With the last bit of energy in my reserves, I roll myself onto my back and stare up at the sky. What should be a sunny day is tainted by the waves of smoke blowing in all directions, creating a dark shadow over everything.
“This is. Blake Collins. Can. Anyone. Hear me?” My voice is hoarse as I try again to reach someone on the radio. Speaking makes me cough again, and I can’t stop. I cough until I gag, then cough some more. The heat is getting more intense, making it hard to forget I’m getting boxed in.
God, please, let me make it out of this. Don’t take me from Mia or the kids. I need them. Please, just get me out of here.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes despite my lack of hydration as soon as I see the first flame. It gets harder and harder to bring oxygen into my body, but the wheezing is drowned out by the approaching fire.
I close my eyes and picture Mia one more time.
The shy girl with her shiny blonde hair and princess dress who moved in when we were six.
The girl who gave me my first kiss.
The girl who showed me what true, unconditional love was.
The girl who gave me two beautiful children to adore and spoil.
The girl I envisioned growing gray and old with.
God, I’m going to miss so much. Birthdays, Michael’s first day of school, walking Aubrey down the aisle.
I’ll miss everything.
No, I’m not ready to go! I need her. I need them. There’s so much I haven’t gotten to do with them yet. I take a deep breath, choking on it as it hits my lungs. Mia has always been the stronger of the two of us. Ever since we were teenagers, she helped me through hard times. She was there when my dad died, she pulled me out of my self-destruction with alcohol when Gary died, and she held it together when I was terrified Michael wouldn’t survive. She doesn’t realize it, but our family is solid because of her.
Panic retreats as a sense of calm and acceptance comes over me. I close my eyes, letting this feeling engulf me. I gave it my all, but it wasn’t enough. However, with her strength, I know she’ll continue to take care of our family the way she always has, and that makes this a little easier even though my very soul is dying inside.
It’s going to be alright.
She’ll be okay.
She’ll make it through this.
“You were my first, Mia.”
“And my last.”
June 2017
My dearest Mia,
If you’re reading this, it’s because I’ve failed you, but not from a lack of trying. Just know I did everything I could to get back to you and the kids.
I know I’ve told you before, but you’ve made me happier than I ever could have imagined. I never knew life could be this good, but you’ve made it amazing. My only hope is that I’ve given you a fraction of the love and happiness you’ve given me over the years.
If you waited to open this like I asked on the front of this envelope, some time has passed now and I know you’re doing better. You’re strong, stronger than I ever was, so I have no doubts you’ll be fine.
You know I’m not real good with the romantic stuff, but I want you to make me a promise. It’s the whole reason I wrote this other than to tell you I love you one more time. I don’t need to ask you to watch out for our kids and tell them about me, because I know you’ll do those things. I want you to promise me that this won’t be the end for you. When you’re ready, you’ll find a new happiness. Even if that’s with someone else, it’s okay.
You deserve everything in life, and I’m so sorry I won’t be the one to give it to you. I love you so much, and all I want for you is to be happy. Don’t be afraid of it and don’t let our memories hold you back from finding it.
Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean I’m gone for good. I’ll live on through you, Aubrey, and Michael. You three were my biggest accomplishments and there wasn’t a thing on this planet that I was prouder of. I’ll be watching you guys from afar.
Tell Michael to keep his elbow up when he bats.
Tell Aubrey she’s not allowed to date until she’s thirty.
You are my heart and soul,
Blake
I crumble the note into a ball and throw it in the trashcan next to my locker. It’s been eleven months since I almost died in that fire, and despite physical therapy and surgeries, I’m still not able to walk. I had a hard time accepting I wouldn’t be able to do all the things I normally did. Chasing after my wife and kids, jumping out of planes and fighting fires. I can’t do any of it anymore. But I quickly realized it’s a small price to pay compared to what I could have lost.
Mia was the last thing I saw before I passed out in the forest. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a helicopter being airlifted to a hospital where part of my team was waiting on me. I was told a rescue team was able to locate me based off my tracking beacon. No one could get in by foot, so they lowered a guy from the helicopter, loaded me into the basket, and reeled me in. A few minutes later and it would have been too late.
Breathing in so much smoke caused me to pass out and damaged my respiratory
system. The heat from the fire burned my airways causing them to swell, so they had to put in a trach. It was a really long six months, but when they pulled me off of it, everything was back to normal.
Well, almost everything was back to normal. I had a few broken bones, but the greatest injuries were done to my back. I broke it when I fell off the cliff and hurt my spinal cord. The doctors aren’t sure if this is permanent or temporary, but it’s been months and there have been no improvements to my mobility from the waist down.
I cheated death.
I’m alive.
I probably shouldn’t be, but I am and that is what’s important. I don’t care about the injuries because I’m still here. I get to hold my kids and kiss my wife. My prayers were answered and I’m forever thankful for that. Everything else seems minor in comparison.
“You ready to go, babe?” Mia asks, poking her head around the corner. My first response every time I see her is to smile. I can’t help it. There was a moment in time where I never thought my eyes would land on hers again. Seeing her now can only be described as a gift from God.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I tell her.
She grabs my backpack full of the things I’m keeping and hooks it on the back of my wheelchair. Grasping the wheels, I give myself a push and leave the locker room for the last time. It’s a bittersweet feeling to leave the one place that felt like a second home. These guys have become my brothers, my family.
“What time are the movers coming?” I ask her.
“They should be here at eight in the morning. The guy I talked to on the phone said he could have us packed up tomorrow, and head out the day after.” I nod as we get to the car. Now that I’ve hung up my parachute for good, we’re moving back to Tennessee to be close to family. With our current situation, it made the most sense.
“Are you okay with us moving?” she asks.
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