I Was Shot in the Stomach at 9 Months Pregnant & My Miracle Baby Lived So I Could Say Goodbye
"My love for her was so strong and deep, and as much as it killed me not having her and seeing her with all the tubes and motionless."
TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains photos and information about infant loss, which may be triggering to some.
There was a time around October or November of 2018 where I worked as an assistant manager at Taco Bell. I was 21 years old, living on my own, and not in a relationship. During previous months, I had been in a toxic relationship, so once I was able to distance myself from that, I took some time to find myself and fall in love with myself again.
During my time alone, I met someone that I automatically clicked with but because of my previous relationship, I decided not to make things official. But we had shared so many fun times; mostly full of love and laughter, just being silly together, and just being ourselves. As my feelings grew stronger for him, so did my thoughts.
Eventually, after a couple of months, I decided [to] cut him off completely.
This was my first time ever being pregnant and I was so overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts.
On July 20, 2019, I was at home in my apartment organizing things for her arrival and moving things around.
I continued going through baby stuff in the bedroom when a few minutes later, I suddenly heard the front door get kicked open.
Startled and confused, I stayed in the room until I heard a man’s voice asking where I was. I suddenly creeped out of the bedroom only to be encountered by a woman with a knife. She quickly grabbed hold of me and I begged and pleaded for her not to stab me. “I’m pregnant!” Now, being out of the room, I had a better glimpse of what was happening.
There, in the living room, stood a man holding a gun to my ex boyfriend’s head. (Emery’s dad was in rehab at the time.) We didn’t know these people. We asked who they were, what they wanted. They came for someone who had problems with my ex boyfriend. I begged and pleaded for them to let us be, that they were in MY HOME and that I had nothing to do with whatever they were there for. After a while of being told to shut up and stop moving, and being threatened to be shot and stabbed, they angrily grabbed our phones, my car keys, all my cards, and belongings in my purse. In it included all the money I had been saving for emergencies and for Emery. They also took an Xbox as well.
As they began to run out the house, I hollered for my ex-boyfriend to follow them.
I grabbed a knife and ran behind him. As soon as I stepped foot outside the apartment, I started screaming for someone to help, that two people broke into my apartment, had a knife and a gun, and were taking my things … Crickets! My ex was fighting for the belongings back as I ran to him. Before I knew it, I heard a gunshot and felt an intense pain in my stomach. I knew I had been shot.
I quickly covered what I could to stop the bleeding but the pain was so intense I sat down. I couldn’t [bear] to walk. Neighbors filled the sidewalks soon after and I hollered for someone to help me. I was pregnant and had been shot. They called EMS and the police department. Meanwhile, the suspects got into a car and sped off towards the entrance gate, which was closed. They turned around and headed back towards me, still in the street. Thankfully, a neighbor moved me out of the street and another went for a towel to help control the bleeding. Soon after, the EMS arrived and took me to the hospital. I couldn’t feel Emery moving anymore.
I begged for them to save my baby, to help my baby.
Once she had a heartbeat, they airlifted her to another hospital to better suit her needs; they soon found her to be completely brain dead.
When I first saw her, she was completely motionless and couldn’t open her eyes, cry, or even breathe on her own.
A few days after my surgery, I continued to fight to push my way towards being discharged and being able to go be with Emery.
The doctors didn’t expect her to live another night, but she lived for a total of eight!
My heart was already broken into a million pieces knowing she was hurt and I could never do anything to heal her pain or make her better.
On the 28th of July, we decided it was time to put our love for her in front of all else we were feeling or wanting.
She was breathing on her own for 30 minutes.
I wanted to cremate her to have her with me everywhere I go.
This tragedy and evil brought on me was not the work of God, but of the devil.
Through my traumatic life experiences, I’ve spoken [with] so many women online.
Since I have had my staples removed, I came to stay with my mom and her boyfriend in California to heal and get away from things for a while.