** The true story of a mother's life-threatening battle with Preeclampsia**

I stare as they carry her across the room and lay her lifeless, six-pound body in a plastic crib. The nurses look hopeless as they shove a tiny mask over her face, forcing oxygen into her lungs. Pain in my uterus grabs my attention as my OBGYN massages it with a clenched fist. Shawn stands by my head, torn between the two of us. We both need him, but I shove him toward her. She's clinging to life, unable to breathe, surrounded by strange voices and bright lights. Her first memory of the world will be chaotic, setting her up for a life of unwavering stress, and I take full responsibility. She needs to hear a familiar voice; to know that everything wil be ok; to give her a will to live.

I kick myself for putting her in that position. How could I not have known that Preeclampsia was sneaking up on me? How could I not have tried harder to stop it; to contact the doctors sooner and change her fate? If she dies on that table, here in this cold brick room, I will never forgive myself.

The cuff on my arm tightens as it reads my blood pressure for the third time in a row. I haven't fallen into a seizure yet, but cardiac arrest isn't out of the question due to my plummeting electrolyte levels. I stare at Shawn from across the room, knowing that he could lose us both at any moment. His blue eyes overflow with broken tears that slide down his inflamed cheeks. He stands next to our daughter, struggling to hold it together while I watch from a distance. The nurses work around him, attaching cords and wires to her tiny chest, and glancing up at the monitor once her vitals finally register.

"She's breathing, but not well. We need to get her to the NICU, stat," the nurse exclaims.

I wave to Shawn as he follows her down the hallway, internally struggling with the thought of leaving me behind. I lay motionless on the bed while the doctor sews my episiotomy, wondering if it's the last time I will see the two loves of my life.

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