PART 2
I cried the entire drive home.
My husband kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on mine.
Neither of us knew what to say.
We had spent months imagining her first steps.
Her first birthday.
Her first day of school.
Now we didn’t know if we’d even get to bring her home.
The next morning, we went back to our regular doctor.
We needed another opinion.
Maybe the specialist was wrong.
Maybe there was something they’d missed.
But after another ultrasound, our doctor confirmed it.
Our daughter had anencephaly.
There was no treatment that could change the diagnosis.
The doctor explained that we had options.
We could end the pregnancy.
Or we could continue carrying her and give her whatever time she had.
I looked at my husband.
Neither of us wanted our daughter’s entire life reduced to a medical decision.
Then our doctor mentioned another possibility.
“We can make arrangements for organ donation.”
I looked up.
“What?”
If our daughter was born alive and met certain medical criteria, parts of her body might be able to help other children.
The idea was heartbreaking.
But it also gave us something we’d desperately needed.
A reason to keep going.
We couldn’t save our daughter.
But maybe she could save someone else.
We decided to carry her to term.
From that moment forward, every day became precious.
I talked to her constantly.
I’d put my hand on my stomach and whisper:
“Mommy’s here.”
We took pictures.
We bought her a special blanket.
We chose her name.
Rylei.
Our daughter finally had a name.
And even though doctors were already preparing us for goodbye…
she was still ours.
6
As the weeks passed, the pregnancy became harder emotionally.
People asked how far along I was.
I would answer.
Then they’d smile and say:
“You’re almost there!”
They didn’t know.
They didn’t know that every extra week was both a blessing and a countdown.
We wanted her to grow as much as possible.
We wanted her to have the best chance of being born alive.
So we kept going.
Eventually, we reached the date we’d been waiting for.
The hospital scheduled my induction.
I walked through those doors knowing I might be walking toward the shortest goodbye of my life.
The labor was brutal.
Hours passed.
Then more hours.
My body refused to cooperate.
The doctors tried medication.
They tried everything they safely could.
Still, nothing happened.
Nearly two days passed.
I was exhausted.
My husband barely left my side.
Then the doctors broke my water.
A few hours later, everything changed.
The contractions became stronger.
The room filled with nurses.
The medical team began preparing for Rylei’s arrival.
People were moving quickly because they expected her to survive only moments.
Organ donation specialists were contacted.
Everyone was preparing for the worst.
Then the doctor looked at me.
“It’s time.”
I squeezed my husband’s hand.
And with tears running down my face, I pushed.
Our daughter was finally coming into the world.
We had spent months being told she might never survive birth.
But as the doctors rushed toward us…
we heard something none of us expected.
She was alive.
