I was born at 6:46 pm on March 16, 1999. When I was born, all of my vital signs were perfect. My lungs were clear, and functioning properly and my heart was pumping as it should have been. My mother was having issues holding me, as she was still shaky from the epidural, so my father was the only family member of mine who got to hold me before everything went south. He went home a few hours after my birth so that my mother could rest. The nurses had taken me from my parents and placed me in the nursery with all the other newborns. He was planning on picking the two of us up the next morning, well rested and ready for the first full day of parenthood. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. Around 8 pm, my mother was just dozing off to sleep when a priest came to speak to her.
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He came to tell her that I was dying, not dead. My father received a phone call from my mother at the hospital telling him that they had taken their baby away. At this point, my lungs had stopped absorbing oxygen, and I couldn't breathe. My parents, curious as to what went wrong with their perfectly healthy baby, asked the doctor what
He came to tell her that I was dying, not dead. My father received a phone call from my mother at the hospital telling him that they had taken their baby away. At this point, my lungs had stopped absorbing oxygen, and I couldn't breathe. My parents, curious as to what went wrong with their perfectly healthy baby, asked the doctor what