April 25, 2017 – The day I will remember for the rest of my life. It was around 4:15 p.m. The girls had both recently gotten up from a great 2-hour nap, so I was well rested too. It was a beautiful day out, so we were getting ready to go outside to play. And then it happened. My water broke with a big gush and I knew instantly what it was. I started to panic and just kept saying “no, no, no, no…” As I started running around looking for my phone to call my husband and parents, I continued leaking fluid all over my bedroom and bathroom. When I found my phone, I couldn’t get the thing to unlock. I was literally yelling at my phone and willing it to somehow open. I even tried the emergency call, but couldn’t get that to work either. I took a breath and tried my password one more time and it finally worked. First, my mom didn’t answer her phone (which rarely happens) and then my dad didn’t answer his phone. Now I was really panicked. Thankfully my husband answered right away and said he’d meet me at the hospital. I know he wasn’t expecting that call, but I thank God that I was able to reach him and that he wasn’t with any patients at the time.  After what seemed like eternity, but was probably only minutes, my mom called back and immediately said they’d come and get me.

But in the midst of my craziness, something beautiful happened. I couldn’t focus on it at the time, but I need to share it with the world now because I’m so humbled and proud and in awe of my brave little girl.

As I was running around the bathroom, gushing fluid all over the floor and talking to myself, my daughter picked up on my panic. I think I might’ve told her that mommy needed to go to the hospital when she asked me why I was peeing all over the floor. So what does she do? She spots my neighbor from my upstairs bathroom window and starts banging on the window shouting “Please come and help my mommy. She’s sick and needs to go to the hospital.” Unfortunately, my neighbor couldn’t hear her from our bathroom though. And then she turned to me and said “don’t worry mommy, Jesus will save you.” I heard all of this, but I wasn’t really present in the moment to appreciate her bravery and faith.

Somehow, within the next 20-25 minutes, I managed to call my priest and my hospice team, change my clothes and get some shoes on the girls and go outside. My oldest daughter disappeared out the door before me and by the time I went out looking for her, she was walking back holding my neighbor’s hand. She asked if I was okay and I told her what had happened. She knew my situation and without hesitation told me that she’d watch the girls while I was at the hospital. I honestly couldn’t think straight at the time and I accepted her gracious offer and went to the hospital with my parents. It wasn’t until the next day when I spoke with her again that I asked what my daughter had said to her. She said that my daughter ran over to her house and called her and said “My mom is sick and needs help.” She told my daughter to take her hand and take her to her mommy.

My three-year-old was my hero that day. It’s like the stories you read about of the toddler who calls 911. She was so brave and empathetic to her mommy, that she went and found help. She’s too little to realize what she did or how much it meant to me, but it has forever left a mark on my heart that I will carry with me the rest of my life.

I made it to the hospital around 5:15/5:20 p.m. My parish priest and my husband both arrived a few minutes after we did. I thank God that He allowed for all the people who I needed to be there to get there on time, despite the rush hour traffic and other work obligations.

When they put me in triage, there didn’t seem to be any urgency to my situation. They took my weight, asked a ton of questions, checked to see if my water really did break, took my vitals and eventually put the heart monitor on the baby. My on-call doctor from my practice wasn’t even there yet. So despite seeing lots of nurses, no one really told us what was going on. Then around 6ish, the staff doctor came in to discuss what we wanted to do. He indicated that the baby’s heart rate was dropping and already low and that there was a good chance that she could be stillborn by the time I delivered. I asked what our options were and I could tell by the looks on their faces that they weren’t good. They mentioned c-section, but that it wasn’t medically necessary for me and it wasn’t part of our birth plan to get one unless I needed it. But that brought us back to the fact that she probably wouldn’t make it if we waited for a natural birth. As my husband told the doctor, “this is an impossible decision to just let our daughter die in front of us.” I managed to ask that if we wanted a c-section, when would that happen. The answer was emphatically, RIGHT NOW. I knew what that meant. Time was of the essence and I was losing my baby girl.

I looked at my husband almost begging him to make this decision for me. He knew I shouldn’t have the surgery and be put at risk since our baby’s chance for survival wouldn’t change. But he also knew we so desperately wanted to meet her and have her baptized into God’s kingdom.

He paused for a few seconds trying to find the words and said “this is me speaking from the heart…we wanted to meet her and have her baptized…”. Okay. I knew. And I felt the same, but needed some courage to get there. I looked at the doctors and nurses and said, “Okay, we’ll have the c-section.”

From that moment on, everything is a bit of a blur. They immediately started prepping me and calling the anesthesiologist. From the time we said go, I was in surgery less than 10 minutes later. I remember lying in the operating room wondering what was happening. I was scared and alone. My husband wasn’t even in the room with me when they started the operation. But within a few minutes he arrived, along with our priest who also had to scrub in so that he’d be ready to baptize our girl.

The surgery was awful. I had heard of these moms who love their c-section experiences and prefer it over vaginal deliveries. That was not my experience. I was vomiting throughout and felt like I couldn’t breathe. I kept telling them that I don’t feel right and that something was wrong. I even asked if my heart and blood pressure were okay because I couldn’t breathe. It was horrible.

And then all of a sudden, I heard my husband say “here’s the baby.” I look to my left and there she was…my angel that I had waited over eight months for. She didn’t cry, but she was with us. Her mouth was open and one eye was looking around. She was so tiny and frail, but also so perfect. My priest was right. In that moment that I met her and got to hold her, she was mine and everything was good. I didn’t think about her sickness. I only thought that here was my beautiful daughter whom I so deeply loved. I just kept kissing her and telling her I love her.

God bless our priest, who not only baptized her the minute she was born, but served as our photographer and videographer the whole time we were in the operating room. I didn’t even know he was taking pictures, but will be forever grateful that he captured those moments and gave us the only video we have of our precious Liliana while she was alive for 30 wonderful minutes.

Those 30 minutes were spent with my husband and I loving on our baby girl. I unfortunately couldn’t hold her like I wanted to since they were still operating on me and I was still not feeling well, but I fit in as many kisses as I could in between. At one point I told her that it was okay and to go be with Jesus. But looking back, I’d give anything to have had more time with her. Thirty minutes wasn’t enough. It’s easy to be sad and bitter over what was or what should’ve been. But I have to focus on what blessings we were given. We had three ‘wishes’ for Liliana’s birth: that she would be baptized; that we would get to meet her, hold her and love her; and that she would be comfortable. God gave us all of those things. Not on our terms, but by His grace, He answered the prayers we prayed a thousand times. God is good!

Post-op, I finally got to sit up and look at my sweet baby girl who was now with the Lord in heaven. While I was in surgery, my parents had left to pick up my girls from my neighbor’s house. It was around 7:15 p.m. and the girls go to bed around 8 p.m., so when my husband called them to see how things were, I had told him to tell my parents to stay home and put the girls to sleep. I mentioned to the nurse who was taking care of me that I wish my girls could’ve met Liliana. I don’t remember her exact words, but they went something like this: “…my boys were just happy they got to meet their little sister and say goodbye to her…”. I’m not sure that I had really looked at her until that moment. I did then. All I said was “did you lose…?” And she said yes. I immediately yelled to my husband who was still on the phone with my parents to bring the girls to the hospital. If there was ever a reason to miss their bedtime, I’m pretty sure this was it.

We got to my room the same time my parents arrived with the girls as well as my sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephews. We asked everyone to wait outside while we brought my oldest daughter in to meet Liliana. Before all of this happened, we were planning on telling her that week that Liliana was sick and that she may not come home with us once she was born. We wanted to give her a little time to process things and ask questions, but we had waited so long because we wanted her to also be joyful with my pregnancy for as long as possible. So we had just introduced the notion of heaven to her in the previous few weeks around Easter. So on a very primitive level, she understood that Jesus died and was now in heaven, which was a beautiful place with rainbows and waterfalls (and rollercoasters according to the book we have) and everyone was happy there.

Our plan was to tell her that Liliana was now with Jesus, but that all went out the window the minute she came in the room and started playing with Liliana and talking to her as if she were sleeping. She started kissing her and touching her face and talking to her baby sister like they were old friends. It broke my heart to see how excited she was and to know they wouldn’t get to do the things that sisters do. But I do know one thing for sure…my girls will know Liliana. I can promise that much.

So we let my oldest daughter just love on her baby sister and enjoy meeting her. We decided we would save the conversation for the next day. Tonight was for Liliana’s family to meet her and love her and celebrate her life. So the whole family came in, including our hospice family who had supported us over the last few months and were there for her birth like they said they would be. It was a full house filled with love for our daughter we had waited for and wanted so desperately. It wasn’t the outcome we wanted, but it was a beautiful night. Our priest even returned after leaving for a short time. We prayed together, we took hundreds of pictures and we honored my sweet Liliana with endless love.

By 10 p.m., everyone had left except my husband. We had some quiet time with our precious daughter. I don’t remember everything, but I know there were lots more kisses and ‘I love yous’. I got to keep Liliana in my room overnight. Even though I was physically and emotionally exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. I remember around 1 or 2 a.m., I picked up Liliana and just held her. I talked to her, sang her a lullaby, and told her that God wanted her, just like we did. Looking back, I wish I would’ve held her the entire night. I wish I would’ve given her a thousand more kisses in those brief hours she was with me. I wish a lot of things different. But one thing I would never change is my decision to carry Liliana and see her be born. Her life was a blessing to us. She is a blessing to us. And I will carry her for the rest of my life.