In August 2015, my doctor confirmed that I was pregnant. At this moment, I became a mother. My first pregnancy. I always wanted a little girl to share my world with. I was excited and scared at the same time. The doctor spoke with me about preeclampsia. I was aware of it because my cousin had been diagnosed with it. And it sounded scary. I immediately began to care for my daughter by taking better care of myself and setting boundaries in my life. Her dad and I would speak with her every night. On October 22, 2015, I went to see a specialist because my doctor had some concerns. I had been having migraines for a week, but I always have migraines. The beginning of October, everything still looked good. I could even see my daughter moving around. The middle of the month is when the migraines started. So, the specialist thought everything looked good. Their office contacted me, after I left, and asked that I come back. On the morning of October 23, 2015, I felt dizzy and as if I was going to fall out. My daughter’s dad took me to the specialist who had the nurse take my blood pressure after I did a urine sample. I looked at the blood pressure reading. It was about 170/101. The doctor rushed in with a look of concern on his face. He told me that I had traces of protein in my urine, and I already knew where the conversation was going. I left the office and told my daughter’s father that we had to go to labor and delivery at the hospital. At 18 weeks, I started a bittersweet journey of faith, sadness, and pain. I was admitted to the hospital. I did a daily urine sample, daily bloodwork, daily blood pressure monitoring, and daily evaluation. I prayed more. I would play with my makeup, write in my journal, do my homework, have visitors, speak with my daughter and God, and laugh with my daughter’s dad to help keep my mind at ease. Two of the four doctors thought that I had chronic blood pressure while the other two concluded preeclampsia. After more monitoring, the worse was concluded. I had severe preeclampsia and the HELLP syndrome. My face looked like death. My kidneys were impacted. I was tired, but I wanted to fight for my daughter. I wanted to help her survive even if it meant that I would die. The doctor told me that I could die; my daughter could die; or we both could die. My daughter’s father and I believed. On October 30, 2015, I ate burgers and fries with family and my labor was induced. At 20 weeks and 5 days, On November 1, 2015, at 9:20pm, I gave birth to Yalon Elise Isaac. There was no crying. Yalon’s dad held my hand as the doctor said, “the baby has been breached” then “the baby passed” then “Eulonda, we need to remove the placenta and if we cannot get it out, we will need to go to the OR”. I pushed and silently cried. My face went from looking like death to life. My sleeping angel was placed in my arms. Her dad and I held her. Her eyes were open. I asked God to let me be able to see her soul through her eyes. She had a beautiful soul. I was numb as Yalon’s lifeless body laid across from my bed. I don't think I slept for 24 hours. I was grateful for my family, friends, doctors and nurses who fought with us. Yalon's father and I walked this journey together every day. Often, people don't realize that the dad endures pain too. This experience was traumatizing. I felt guilt and pain because I could not save my daughter. I promised her that she would be my first and only. The pain put me in a significant amount of credit card debt as I tried to swipe the pain away. I avoided the pain by working more. I was hurting. Therapy, prayer, and reminding myself that I did nothing wrong saved me. But speaking with my daughter’s spirit and realizing that she saved me more than anything else is what pushed me to walk from the darkness to the light. Yalon did not want me to live in misery. Therefore, I live twice. Once for her and once for me. Yalon gave her life for mine as I tried to save her. In her memory, I volunteer and share my story to promote awareness of preeclampsia and the HELLP syndrome and to let parents, who endure this pain, know that they are not alone.