It’s October 10, 2021. This day marks our four year wedding anniversary and a month since you were hit by that young boy. I cringe when I think about how he left you lying there on the pavement, three blocks away from our house. I remember that night vividly. We were arguing in the kitchen, trying to decide between Liam and David for our first child’s name. The doctor said we should start discussing them since I was twenty eight weeks and the baby should be here in about two months and we became angry at each other. I went up to the bedroom and sat there waiting for you to join me so we could work things out. I heard the front door open and slam shut. I figured you were just going for a walk and needed some space.
I checked the clock, it was 8:10. After twenty minutes had passed, I decided you weren’t coming back anytime soon (you know how impatient I am), I walked downstairs and out the door, I began walking down the sidewalk when I saw you crossing the street. It looked as though you were heading back home. I called your name but you didn’t respond. I figured I had really set you off this time. I turned and started making my way back to the house when I suddenly heard screeching rubber against the graveled pavement and a loud thump. I turned back around and saw a black Ford F150 turning away from your broken body. I ran as fast as I could trying to catch up to that low life that hit you. I couldn’t get close enough to stop him, not that he would… but I caught a glimpse of his tag number “KMA 810” is what it read. I ran back to you and held your bleeding head while I called 911.Your breathing was staggered and shallow, and your hands were shaking. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t force the tears out of my eyes. Seeing you lying there made my heart sink to my stomach, your hands stopped shaking. I thought to myself “this is it, he’s gone.”
I saw the ambulance before I heard its sirens, and I was suddenly filled with anger and fury. I was unbelievably frustrated that the ambulance showed up only minutes after I had convinced myself it was too late. There were three men that jumped out of the emergency vehicle and asked me to step aside. They took out the stethoscope and checked your breathing. They assured me that you were still alive. My knees went weak as I feel to the ground and started to pray. It had been a while since I talked to God one on one, but it felt necessary at the time. The emergency vehicle technician’s picked you up and placed you on the stretcher as carefully as possible as if not to disturb your already shattered body. I climbed in the ambulance and sat on the bench lining the interior of the vehicle and grasped your bruised hand. We arrived at the hospital and the doctors wheeled you into emergency surgery with suspicions of internal bleeding throughout your abdomen. While you were in surgery they examined me and checked my vitals as well as perform an ultrasound to examine the baby’s. I predicted high blood pressure for the both of us, but I was not prepared for the news I was about to receive. I had been carrying twins for the last seven months without even realizing it, and the news couldn’t have come at a more stressful time.
After your surgery, you were admitted into room 810. I sat with you all night waiting for you to wake up until I realized that your anesthesia would have already worn off by now. I understood what was occurring. The nurse came in to change your sheets and switch out the gauze on your head. I asked her how long you’d be under. She explained to me as sincerely and cautiously as she could that you had a hemorrhage in the left side of your brain instead of suspected bleeding in your abdomen. I didn’t have to force the tears this time.

It’s been a month since you first slipped into your coma; twenty six days to be exact. Twenty six days since I last heard your voice. I have many regrets about that night. I wish I would have never gone upstairs after our argument, I wish I wouldn’t have stayed in the bedroom after I heard you storm out of the house. I wish I wouldn’t have given you twenty minutes of space because those twenty minutes quickly turned into twenty six days without you. I regret turning around and heading back to the house after calling your name because maybe, just maybe I could have saved you from that truck.
Above all regrets, today has been a better day than the last twenty six. Early yesterday morning I had my first contraction as I was sitting on your bedside holding your hand. I was immediately rushed into labor and delivery where I would be until our twins were born. The nurse offered me an epidural but I refused. I felt as though I deserved the pain. Twelve hours had passed and I was finally ready to start pushing. I reached for your hand only to find that you weren’t there. I heard his first cry, I felt relieved. He weighed four pounds and six ounces. He had your thick black hair. Our second baby was also a boy; he weighed three pounds and six ounces and had hazel eyes just as mesmerizing as yours. The doctor said they were fraternal but I didn’t believe it for a second. I wish you could see them. They look just like you.

They let me come and sit with you for a while after I rested. I sat there holding your hand for what seemed like hours. I apologized to you for that night and for the first time; you squeezed my thumb as if to say “I forgive you.” It was a light, subtle, almost nonexistent squeeze; but it didn’t’ matter to me. It was the first sign of life that I felt from you in twenty six days. At that moment, I knew you were going to be okay.

The doctor sent me home a few hours later without Liam and David because of how premature they were. On the way home, I was driving through an intersection and was suddenly cut off by a familiar black truck running the red light. I slammed on my brakes and swerved onto the shoulder. As soon as I gathered myself, I was back on the road behind the fool that almost took my life. I spent the next two miles behind him, trying to understand why his truck looked so familiar; and then I caught a glimpse of his license tag. “KMA 810” is what it read. I frantically grabbed my phone and began dialing 911 as I continued to follow him.