I’ll never forget when the doctor told me, “He’s not breathing. We don’t know if he will make it.”

I laid there helplessly on the operating table. I had just had a c-section and arrived in Florida after a long drive down I-95 while I was in labor. I was no ordinary mom. I was a prostitute. Well, at that time, I never thought of myself as that. I worked for an Escort Service, and considered myself a high class call girl who went by the name “Samantha”. High class. Hum…interesting word. Yet at that moment, I had no place to live, and after fighting the good fight I didn’t know if my baby would live or die.

Five minutes passed. Still no cry was heard. I just wanted to hear him cry. I wanted to lift my numb body over the drape. I wanted to save him. I wanted to tear the IV out of my arm and shout, “Get off me you jerks! I need to save my baby because you idiots are not!”.

I wanted the anesthesiologist to hold my hand as tears trickled down my cheeks. I was alone. I wanted to die with him.

I awoke in my own private room. When I realized I was laying there alone without him, I immediately started crying, “Oh God, why. Why did he have to die? Why God, why?”

That moment, a hand touched mine. Wiping my tears to see the clouded figure before me she softly spoke “Your baby did not die. It was a very close call. It took five minutes to revive him but he is alive.”

“Will he be okay”?

“We don’t know yet.” She replied.I’ll never forget when the doctor told me, “He’s not breathing. We don’t know if he will make it.”

I laid there helplessly on the operating table. I had just had a c-section and arrived in Florida after a long drive down I-95 while I was in labor. I was no ordinary mom. I was a prostitute. Well, at that time, I never thought of myself as that. I worked for an Escort Service, and considered myself a high class call girl who went by the name “Samantha”. High class. Hum…interesting word. Yet at that moment, I had no place to live, and after fighting the good fight I didn’t know if my baby would live or die.

Five minutes passed. Still no cry was heard. I just wanted to hear him cry. I wanted to lift my numb body over the drape. I wanted to save him. I wanted to tear the IV out of my arm and shout, “Get off me you jerks! I need to save my baby because you idiots are not!”.

I wanted the anesthesiologist to hold my hand as tears trickled down my cheeks. I was alone. I wanted to die with him.

I awoke in my own private room. When I realized I was laying there alone without him, I immediately started crying, “Oh God, why. Why did he have to die? Why God, why?”

That moment, a hand touched mine. Wiping my tears to see the clouded figure before me she softly spoke “Your baby did not die. It was a very close call. It took five minutes to revive him but he is alive.”

“Will he be okay”?