I was a 19-year-old pregnant female. I had hit my 32nd week of pregnancy, only gaining 15 pounds. My feet started to swell badly. I was very tired and sleeping all the time. I was a full-time college student and taking care of our first apartment. We didn't have much money at the time (heck, still don't), but I still had good prenatal care and took my prenatal vitamins daily. I did smoke, however.

My baby shower was scheduled for November 5, 1998. I was in the process of preparing for the shower and doing my schoolwork, when to my surprise, my feet swelled from a size 8 to a size 11 1/2 within about a week. I was alarmed; however, I read the pregnancy books and I knew that swelling was somewhat normal. Since I had no pain or other problems, I figured I was okay.

I had already had two ultrasounds and knew we were having a boy. Our baby was due to be born on December 5, 1998. I wasn't exactly excited about the pregnancy when I found out, but I decided to keep the baby because I fell in love with him during my very first ultrasound. He looked like a tiny little teddy bear and I just couldn't wait to hold him.

October 29, 1998 was my appointment with OB-GYN/family doctor. It was scheduled for 2:30 p.m., but I took a nap before. I almost decided not to go because I was so tired and so was my fiancé. But something told me that my feet swelling from a size 8 to a size 11 within a week wasn't normal pregnancy swelling. Gut instinct got me to the appointment.

During the doctor's appointment they made me pee in a cup (to check for problems), as well as did the normal blood pressure check. Well the nurse couldn't believe how high my blood pressure was (I don't remember now, but I know it was bad). They took it a few more times and then worried, she went to get the doctor. She had me lay on my left side to see if that helped. The results from the urine analysis came back that I had tons of protein leakage, which is a sign of toxemia. With the protein problem as well as the blood pressure continuing to go up and up, my doctor told me to go straight home, get some stuff, and head up to the hospital in the next town. She explained that I would most likely be in the hospital until the birth of my child, because the only cure for toxemia is delivery of the baby.

I freaked out. I remember going to the car with my fiancé and just crying hysterically. I thought I was going to die, or worse yet, my little baby was going to die. We did as the doctor said and hurried up to the hospital with me still in tears. At the hospital they took my blood pressure, did some blood work, and then they let me go quickly to the bathroom. After that, I had a catheter inserted to take care of bathroom privileges for me. I was told to stay in bed and rest. I wasn't given anything to eat, or water to drink, and I had a blood pressure checking thing on my arm that went off every so often. I also had an IV filled with magnesium sulfate and other fluids to keep me hydrated. The magnesium sulfate was to help control my blood pressure and prevent problems. I lay in bed and went through daily checks of urine, blood, and blood pressure until finally things were not getting any better.

By Saturday, October 31, the doctors told me they were going to give me some Pitocin in hopes that I'd go into labor and deliver the baby. They took another ultrasound of the baby and estimated that he would be around 3 pounds because he had Fetal Growth Retardation from the toxemia. Again, I bawled, but not in front of the doctors.

Nothing they did to me hurt, but that Pitocin made me have some really bad contractions, although they weren't strong enough to continue vaginal birth. They decided to do a Cesarean Section. Unfortunately, my anesthesiologist didn't even bother trying to get the spinal in and decided to just put me under. During the surgery, I recovered too quickly from the anesthesia and ended up not breathing.

When I finally came to, I was still groggy with a breathing tube down my throat. For the first hour I choked and gagged (eyes watering) because I was breathing on my own, and the machine was still trying to breath for me. After, I was told the baby was in the NICU at 3 pounds, 3 1/2 ounces. I got to see him for a couple of seconds after I was on my way to recovery, but only long enough to touch his foot. I was so completely out of it that I had no clue who this baby was.

Three days later, after I was able to sit up, I was able to go into the NICU and see Austin. He was so tiny, and at first, I started crying. He had an IV, heart monitor cords, apnea monitor cords, etc. One of the machines went off and I thought he was dying. I think that was the lowest point in my life and I've gone through quite a bit. To this day, nothing compares, even the death of my parents. I just wanted to take my little guy out of the hospital and home with us. I knew he wasn't able to come home with us.

I came to visit him every day in the NICU, except for one day when there was no way for me to get to the other city. That night I stayed home and cried uncontrollably, believing I was a horrible mother. Austin grew slowly, but by Thanksgiving Day he was allowed to come home with us on an apnea/bradycardia monitor, because he still had problems with stopping breathing at night. He weighed 4 pounds, 5 ounces when he was released and he was the most perfect little angel I've ever seen.

Today, he's getting ready for his third birthday. He talks like an adult, is playful, lovable, and so kind. He loves swimming, basketball, and all other sports. He loves reading books. He loves our kitty. He loves his Grandma and Aunties. And most of all he loves life. And I love him in my life. Thank God everything turned out like a fairy tale (although he can be a little punk sometimes).