The worst day of my life was October 26, 2015. That day around 2:30am, I lost my only daughter due to complications from pneumonia. I was in Texas the 24th for a banquet that night. My daughter called that afternoon saying she wasn't feeling well. I asked my normal questions about eating and the pain level in her chest. She said she was about to eat pizza. I told her to let me know if she threw up after because, believe it or not, that would make her pain go away. Later that evening while at the banquet, she said she was going to the emergency room since the pain wouldn't stop. I began to cry and I left the banquet, went to my friend's house to get my things and hopped in the car to go back to Oklahoma. Mind you that was a six hour drive. I texted my friend/sister to see if she could go to the ER so my baby wouldn't be alone. She did and that eased my mind but, I still cried and couldn't stop worrying. When I got there, my daughter was in a room. When I walked in she said, "You didn't have to come".

"You Didn't Have To Come!" Like there would be any place I'd rather be than by my daughter's side. It was so early in the moment. I stayed for a bit. Her fiancee, Justin was there, so, I felt comfortable leaving to go rest a bit. Came back later on that day. She was struggling to breathe. Her heart was pumping so hard that, you could see it from afar. I was feeling her pain. The nurses were in and out. They gave her meds for pneumonia and were waiting for the test results to show what strand she had. I spent time with her throughout the day with her six year son alongside her. Before I left, she said, "I JUST WANT THIS TO STOP!" Needless to say, those words still haunt me to this day. I got home and I was getting ready to lay down. Then, the phone rang. It was Justin saying hysterically that they were going to put my daughter on a ventilator. He was so upset, he couldn't tell me what they had said. I got off the phone, got ready, dropped off her son at her brother's house. When I arrived, the nurse was wheeling her out of that room. She said, "Don't worry. It's just to help her breathe.". I told her I loved her and she said the same. Off she went to ICU.

As she was wheeled to the ICU, we went to the waiting room. After a few minutes, we heard the worst words any parent doesn’t want to hear: “CODE BLUE” room ten. We looked at each other, my husband, and I asked him, “Isn’t that her room?” We rushed to go see and we were stopped by someone. We were allowed to go in her room. My husband collapsed, but, he was caught by a friend. We did not go to the room where they give you an update. We went to the chapel. I sat on the floor with my grandson’s Mima. We all prayed for her. And heard those awful words again and again, “CODE BLUE!” These were the worst moments of our lives hearing and waiting for the doctors to give an update.