At my baby shower, my husband took my $23,000 delivery fund and handed it to his mother in front of 50 guests.

At 2:00 AM on Wednesday, three weeks before my due date, a sudden sharp pain tore through my abdomen.

The heart rate monitor beside my hospital bed began to beep wildly as nurses rushed into the room.

"Her blood pressure is spiking! 180 over 110!" a nurse yelled down the hall. "Call Dr. Aris! We have a placental abruption!"

Dr. Aris burst into the room within two minutes, his face grim as he examined the ultrasound monitor. "The trauma from three weeks ago caused a slow tear in the placental lining. We need to do an emergency C-section right now!"

Fear gripped my throat, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Save my baby, Doctor. Do whatever you have to do."

"We’ve got you, Maya," Dr. Aris promised, wheeling my bed at full speed down the corridor toward the operating theater.

Outside the double doors of the surgical unit, Arthur Pendelton and Marcus Vance stood guard, their faces tense as the red IN OPERATION light flickered on above the entrance.

Inside the sterile room, under the bright overhead lights, the surgical team worked with lightning speed. The local anesthesia numbed me from the waist down, but my heart was pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Incision made," Dr. Aris called out. "Suction ready... holding pressure..."

An agonizing minute passed in near silence, broken only by the hum of the oxygen machine.

Then, a high-pitched, loud, magnificent cry pierced the air.

WAAAAAH! WAAAAAH!

Tears burst from my eyes and streamed down my temples.

"She’s here, Maya!" the head nurse beamed, wrapping a tiny, squirming bundle in a warm pink fleece blanket and bringing her over to my face. "A beautiful, healthy baby girl! Six pounds, four ounces!"

I looked into my daughter’s dark, curious eyes and touched her soft, warm cheek with my trembling index finger.