A couple of days later, things still hurt but are getting better. I’m able to go a couple of hours—present enough to have conversations, but they’re hellacious ones. The doctors are very impressed with how well I’m doing. Some of them say it’s nothing short of a miracle that I survived. Seth corrects them every time, telling them I’m a survivor; it’s what we do in our family.

The doctors have had me up and walking since the day they woke me up. I have to use a walker, and Seth has to support me, usually with a physical therapist or nurse right behind me, just in case.

My chest tube is still intact from the lung problem I had, and it hurts worse than anything else on my body. When I move, it feels like something is scraping in between two of my ribs. Every time I wince, Seth looks guilty. He says it’s his fault, that he should’ve waited to get to the hospital. The doctors tell him otherwise, and so do I. Everyone says that without a doubt, I wouldn’t have made it without Seth’s swift judgment call. He’s literally saved me now, on top of saving me figuratively.

Outside of intense physical pain and some sadness over the loss of life that happened in the airport, I’m okay. We’ve learned a lot more about the attack, and it’s horrific. Liv has mostly forgotten it. She carries on like it was just a weird day, and I’m thankful for the family, friends, and total strangers who kept her safe for me. I’ve been able to thank the mothers who watched her, and they’ve tearfully thanked me for my bravery.

Things are really good. They’re better than they’ve been in years, considering the circumstances. They’re not just the kind of good that fresh from deployment brings home, either. Things feel like they’ve fallen into place like they were the day we got married, but a little different. The road is the same, but the car we’re driving is much better. The floor plan is the same, but the walls are brighter. I just can’t shake the guilt I feel about the decision we’ve both come to about him leaving his PJs.

I’m trying to pretend everything is okay. I’m genuinely over–freakin’-whelmed that Seth is not going to reenlist. But I feel so, so bad. How do I bring up the conversation “So, I know I told you I wanted you to choose between your family and your job and I know I threatened leaving, but I was wrong and now I think I really fucked up”? I feel an immense amount of guilt about his decision to get out of the Air Force. I know my reasons are fair, but I also know his intentions are always good. People depend on him, and those people aren’t just his family and friends. Despite all of that, I feel like one thousand boulders have been lifted from my shoulders, which should make me feel better. But it’s the reason I feel so guilty.

“Why are you grinding your teeth?” Seth interrupts my thoughts. “You okay?”

“Oh. I didn’t even realize. I’m fine, babe.” I try to sound as genuine as possible. It never works with him, and I really don’t know why I continue to try.

“What’s up, Mads?” Seth says as he sends a text to check on Olivia. “Talk to me.” He puts his phone away and kisses my temple. “She’s fine,” he whispers.

I nod, swallowing the knot in my throat.

“What’s wrong, then?” he asks, watching my every reaction now.

“I feel so guilty, Seth.” I can hear how weak I sound. It makes me want to throw things.

“What? Why? No, Maddie. Please don’t feel guilty. I’m telling you I’m 100% at peace with my decision. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life, except for the day I married you.” He winks.

He looks relieved too. Maybe this is what had to happen to make us realize what was most important.

I’m so proud of him. I proudly wear my Air Force Wife gear. I proudly tell anyone who will listen that my husband is a PJ and he’s damn good at saving lives. Everyone knows the tags I wear are my husbands. Thinking of my tags, I go to clench them and the small chain from my neck is gone.

“I have them, remember?” he asks when he sees me reach for them. I always reach for those tags in times of worry. I always will. I nod, still lost in my thoughts.

He’s so proud to be a PJ. He’s so proud to serve his country. He loves the people he serves with. He even kind of really likes the military lifestyle. But maybe he hates the same things I hate. Maybe he hates not knowing if he’ll come home to his family just as much as I hate not knowing if he’ll come home. Maybe he hates having to pull a trigger.

I shudder.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” He squeezes my hand softly.

“I feel guilty because I feel relieved,” I tell him plainly. “I feel like we’re letting people down and that being happy about it is somehow wrong.”

He watches me with an almost dazed look. I can’t explain it. It’s like he just saw something he can’t believe. He shakes his head lightly, stopping to run his hand over the fresh scruff on his face. He shaved and showered a few of days ago and got his own clothes. He looks like my Seth again, but he knows I love that scruff, so he pushes it as far as he can. Maybe now, it’s more out of necessity, but I still love it.

He sits on the edge of my bed, near my hip. I’m sitting up from my earlier walk to hell and back, counting down the hours until it’s time for them to get me some more pain relief.

“You amaze me, Madelyn.” He wraps his arm around me gingerly and pulls me to his chest. I wince as I get comfortable, and he uses the remote to recline us a little.

“Better?” he asks as I settle in with my head against his chest, his hand gingerly on the back of my head. I feel like I’m always sitting up. These people are crazy with the walking and sitting and breathing. I’m tired. I’m emotionally drained though, and I need to break through that so I can recover and be Liv’s mom again, and so I can be Seth’s wife again.

“Better,” I answer as he runs his fingertips over the small wounds from the thumbtacks on my arm.

“There are not a lot of people who feel as strongly about the way they serve as us, Mads. I say us, because for the first time, maybe ever, I realize you’ve served alongside me. You’ve been there through every deployment, with a lot of the same fears as I have. You’ve been the rock that held our family together when I was gone. You’ve raised our daughter with not enough help from me. You should be fed up, and instead you tell me you feel guilty for being glad I’m here to stay. I can’t fucking put it into words, and I may never be able to. It’s nothing short of strong and amazing,” he finishes, kissing the top of my head gently.

“You know I don’t agree with the strong and amazing stuff, but I agree that I finally see we’ve always been in it together,” I say softly.

“We’re always going to be in it together, too” he reminds me.

“I know, and I’m so lucky.” I reach over to take his hand in mine. “How do I stop feeling so guilty?”

“I don’t know the answer to that. I definitely have it too. The same way you have that survivor’s guilt, I guess. But I don’t know the answer to that one either.” He half chuckles.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, looking up at the clock and saying a silent hallelujah that it’s almost time for pain medication again.

“I know we’ll figure it out, though,” Seth says in answer to my sigh.

My new nurse, who’s just about ready to deliver a baby any day now, smiles sweetly as she waddles in to give me my pain medications.

“You know the drill, Seth. Thanks for keeping her upright,” she says as she checks my vitals. “Everything looks good. How’s your pain?” she asks me.

“Pretty rough,” I answer honestly.

“I’ll get you something a little early then. Hang tight,” she says, patting my hand and heading out the door.

“Do you need to go get Liv, or can you stay?” I bite the inside of my bottom lip, looking up at him.

“I’m here, Mads. Not going anywhere. Liv is with our parents. I talked to Matt earlier today. He and Katie want to come by when you feel up to it.” He fills me in on the details I’m missing out on.

The nurse comes back in and puts the medication into my IV as she checks the chest tube that’s grinding against my ribs. I feel it almost immediately. The heavy feeling that starts to pull me under. My body relaxes against Seth as she tosses her gloves into the bin and tells me she’ll be back to check on me soon.

“Sleep, Mads,” he whispers near my ear. “I’m here.”

I let the meds pull me under.