If you had told me I would have an emergency Cesarean section at 28 weeks – at a hospital other than the one I registered at – having gotten there in a helicopter that had to make an emergency landing in a parking lot – I would have given you some harsh words, and I would have apologized later.

I went to my hospital on February 2, 2009. I had some spotting and I knew that wasn't supposed to be so I went in to the emergency room. While I was there my doctor came and examined me and asked me where my cervix was. I said down there where it's supposed to be.

He ordered an ultrasound scope of my cervix. I knew there was something wrong by how the lady that was doing the ultrasound was acting, like she didn't know what to do. I asked her if something was wrong and she said she couldn't say and I would have to ask my doctor.

By the time I got back to my room the nurse was telling me I was about to be airlifted to another hospital and they were going to start me on a drug call magnesium to keep me from going into labor. That stuff made me feel like I was on fire. They said I was threatening preterm labor and the magnesium may slow it down, but I was going somewhere to have my baby and that place could better help her than they could – so off I went.

At first they said the helicopter would be there in one hour; that was soon cut to 30 minutes. The helicopter ride was supposed to be 35 minutes. Fifteen minutes into the flight we had to make an emergency landing at some business parking lot. They took me out of the helicopter and wheeled me into this building's boardroom and I waited there until the ambulance came to take me the rest of the way.

One of the flight nurses said that the engine failed and it's a good thing we had two or we would have been saying our prayers. I don't want to make this so long so I'll spare you the details, but it involved one of the nurses crossing herself in front of me, loud noises and the smell of burnt rubber. Next thing I know we landed. I'll never forget it. After I had my daughter one of the residents brought me a picture of the helicopter sitting in the parking lot – it had made the St. Louis paper.

It didn't take the ambulance long to get me, and we rode 15 minutes to the hospital.

For two days I was on the magnesium, which made my urine smell to high hog heaven. My cervix had shortened to 0.7 mm, I was dilated 3-4 centimeters and she was breech.

Long story short, she held on for seven days. On February 27, 2009, she was born, 3 pounds, 2 ounces, 15 1/2 inches. She stayed in St. Mary's Medical Center in Richmond Heights, MO, for six weeks. My baby left the hospital on April 12. She weighed 4 pounds, 13 ounces.

She didn't need any help when she was born. She was breathing on her own and eating breast milk from the feeding tube that I had pumped the day after she was born.

Almost three weeks later she is 6 pounds, 3 ounces. We named her Samaya (Sa-my-a) Blessing, blessing being her middle name. I am truly so blessed to have her home and doing so well.

After reading so many of your stories I was compelled to write about my experience and to remind mothers that God doesn't make mistakes and this too shall pass. One day we'll look back and once again see how far he has brought us. Be encouraged and look toward the hills for your help. All of our babies are wonderfully made and special no matter who says otherwise.