I was 17 when I went in for having contractions that I counted were three minutes apart. I got to the triage, and they were hooking me up to the machine that monitors the contractions and the baby's heartbeat. The nurse had gotten the contraction one around my belly, but when she did the heartbeat one, she thought that the baby's heartbeat was mine because it was so low. So three other nurses ended up coming in trying to find it and they couldn't. They got a hold of the nurse that does ultrasounds to find his heartbeat. She found it, but it was still so low.

By that time the nurses got me prepped for an emergency Cesarean section. I got to the OR room (without any medication) and the doctor had already started to cut and I started screaming because I could feel it, so they had to put me out right then. He was born on May 24, 2007, weighed 7 pounds, 11 ounces, and was 20 inches long.

It seemed like I was knocked out for a long time. He was born brain dead. He couldn't move or do anything that a normal newborn should do. And him being like that, the nurses that were there treated him a lot differently from the other babies. So I wanted him to be transferred to a different hospital.

He was transferred, four hours away from where I lived. He was transferred to a hospital in Indianapolis, Indiana. We were there for about three to four days and the doctor there told me that there was nothing more that they could do for him, and that he wouldn't get any better, and if he lived to be older than he would be a vegetable. So I transferred him back to the hospital in Evansville, Indiana. He was there for about a week or two and I took him off the ventilator, but he continued to breathe on his own for about a week and half.

On July 4th I had spent the night with my aunt, and the next morning the hospital called and said that they wanted to know if I wanted him to be bagged because he had stopped breathing. I told them yes, and they did.

I finally got home around 7 that night and took a shower and went to the hospital to see Brayden. I got home around 9 that night, so at about 10 that night I got another call from the hospital saying that I needed to get up there because Brayden might not make it through the night. I got up there, and they gave me a room where all the family and I could spend time with him. Most of my family came to support me. I let everyone get their chance to hold him.

At about 2:10 that morning I told him that it was OK to let go, because I knew that his body was getting tired and he needed to rest. I also told him that I loved him so much. He didn't let go until I said those words. It was like he was hanging on for me to tell him that I loved him and that it was not his fault. He passed away in my arms. I wanted to spend extra time with him. So I bathed him, changed his clothes, brushed his hair and held him in my arms.