On February 14, 2002, I went to Parkland Hospital in Dallas, TX for a Fetal MRI. This was recommended to get more information on Asa's birth defects. The radiologist told us immediately following that she did see the colpocephaly, the corpus callosum was missing, and of course we already knew the diaphragmatic hernia was there as well as the heart defect. I was supposed to go and see Dr. MaGee about the results. The wait on the MRI had taken longer than expected, and He was not available. I had been hospitalized the weekend previously for my blood pressure so it needed to be checked. Dr. MaGee's office sent me to their office at Presbyterian where I would see Dr. Graham and Dr. Payne. They briefly discussed the MRI findings, and told me that we really needed to think about doing an amniocentesis. They both agreed that if the baby had trisomy 13 or 18, like everyone suspected, that the baby would not survive, and that with my history of pre-eclampsia, I should not be risking my life by continuing the pregnancy. I told them I felt uncomfortable with the risks of the amnio, and explained that no matter what, I would not contribute in any way to the death of this child. I told them that I had lost one already, and I knew that if I did contribute, or was the cause of this baby's death, I could not live with myself. My mother was with me, and asked if we could talk about it for a minute. They stepped out but asked the nurse to get my blood pressure. She took my pressure, told me to lie down and said, I do not think you will be going home. It was 152 over 101. She was right. It seemed like within minutes, I had the amnio and was admitted to the hospital.

Over the next few days, my pressure seemed to stabilize somewhat, but I began having constant asthma, or so we thought. I could not breath, but yet my lungs sounded clear. I had horrible swelling in my hands face and feet. Finally, they decided to do some tests. They called in a pulmonologist. He did several tests looking for a pulmonary embolism. Nothing. The next day the pulmonologist came in to see me, asked how I was feeling. I told him I felt much better knowing I was not dying. He looked puzzled, I explained that another doctor was just in and told me they felt it was just hormones. I said it's nice to know it is not my heart or something. He immediately felt my jugular veins, listened to my heart and left my room. He never did speak much. Next thing I know they took my pressure standing up. It was great. The next morning they did an echo. Everything gets real foggy from this point out, but basically my husband was in the room for the echo and even he could tell something was seriously wrong.

I had a dilated cardiomyopathy. My ejection faction was between 15% - 20%. (I later learned that qualified me for a heart transplant.) I spent all night in a little tiny room with one nurse administering IV diuretics to try and get control of things. They were very limited as to what they could do with me being pregnant. The next morning my husband who had stayed with my all night, stepped out into the hall and he said it was lined with doctors in white coats. They explained to him things were bad, and that they were going to move me to a larger room. They explained that Asa would need to be born. I was dying. The only chance to save me, was to administer meds that would be detrimental for Asa. Without them, I would die. They asked my husband, "Who do you want us to save, your wife or the baby?" He told them "save her, but you need to try and save them both."

They spent the next 12 hours trying to get me stable for a Cesarean. No one expected Asa to survive his birth defects, and now add being 8 weeks premature. Everyone felt it was hopeless.