Fifty Shades of Mutual Anxiety

Mutual Grief and Understanding

Ana locked the door and took deep breaths to quell the dry heaves that were now wracking her body. How could he go there, especially after everything they'd gone through — years of trying for a second baby ... and then the miscarriage.

It no longer consumed her every waking moment — the pain blunted by time, dulled but never completely gone. The suddenness of their loss had pulled the rug out from underneath their well-ordered lives, sending both of them into an emotional tailspin of shock, self-hatred and finally reluctant acceptance. She never knew it was so common. You never know until it happens and everyone comes out of the woodwork to share their story. She just assumed you got pregnant and that was it.

Christian and Ana eventually found a way to cope, together, but they each spent months blaming themselves for it, dissecting what they could've done differently until they made peace with the fact that, as Christian had so eloquently put it, bad shit just happens in life and it's nobody's fault. They grew closer as they quietly overcame their mutual grief. It forced them to realize that parenthood was an unpredictable gift that not everyone received — pregnancy no guarantee of a happy ending.

Which is why Ana refused to second-guess herself this time around. The doctors didn't have an explanation for why she hemorrhaged, confirming her belief that pregnancy was one of life's mysteries that couldn't always be controlled. Not surprisingly, her control-freak husband didn't share her belief.

"Asshole," she muttered to herself as she stepped into the shower, determined to forget their heated exchange and go to work.

But under the hot water, her anger melted away. She knew Christian hid his devastation after the miscarriage to care for her — his priority was helping her recover. Now, he was bearing his pain alone again. She couldn't imagine what those hours of not knowing were like for him. All he knew was that she was hemorrhaging and that the lives of his wife and daughter were in danger. All she knew was that everything was alright when she woke up, his soothing presence comforting her.

She sighed. It was like Ana had stages for Christian's outbursts — shock, anger, sadness, empathy and forgiveness. He never came from a bad place. Just a stupid one, she smirked. Maybe she should add humor to her list of stages, she thought.

When she came out clad in a towel, Ana ducked into the closet to throw on a dress for work. Christian, still frozen to his spot on the bed, quickly looked up only to be disappointed when she ran from him. She's going to shut me out, he thought grimly.

In a matter of moments though, she quietly padded over to the bed, sitting down and taking hold of his hand. Wary but hopeful, Christian gently rubbed her knuckles, looking at her for permission before leaning over to kiss her temple.

"Christian, I can't possibly imagine what you went through when I was in labor and you refuse to talk about it, which is your prerogative, but don't point the finger at me. I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. I went through that trauma too, remember?"

"I'm so sorry. Of course I know you went through this too Ana. Your strength never fails to astound to me. And God the last thing I meant to imply was that you had anything to do with..."

"Shhhh. Let's not even go there. We're not going to do this blame game any more in our lives. I just can't do it ever again. Do you understand me Christian?"

"Yes I do. I swear I do," he pledged, his voice raspy. "Please baby, you know I think you're perfect. I could never think ill of you. It's me — all me. I just don't ever want anything to happen to you," his voice cracked.

"I know, I know," she said quietly, running her thumb across his bottom lip. He cradled her face and kissed her tenderly, savoring the taste of his wife and her capacity to forgive.

"Christ I love you so much Ana, so much," he breathed between their increasingly passionate kisses, angling her face so he could go deeper, stifling her whimpers.

She pulled back, resting her forehead against his as they struggled to catch their breaths.

"Then please Christian, you need to let up a little. The constant vigil at mealtime is too much. I'm eating — I would never do anything to endanger myself or our children. You just have to ease up on me," she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"I know, I know Ana. I promise you I will. I don't want to smother you. I'll see Dr. Flynn," he relented, his voice achingly sad. At that moment, the six-foot-tall former Dom who ran half of Seattle resembled a broken little schoolboy.

"Christian you don't have to for my sake. You do whatever you have to do, and I'll be there to support you no matter what. I just don't want you to feel like you have to shoulder the burden alone all of the time."

"I'm going because I know I need to. And I'm not alone, ever, thanks to you. I have the love of my life and a son and daughter whom I'm grateful for every day. I can't thank you enough baby for my life," he whispered earnestly, his lips crashing down on hers to devour her.