Nine months pregnant and already in labor, I watched my husband throw fifteen dollars at me and call it “taxi money.” He had no intention of taking me to the hospital. I didn’t argue, cry, or beg. I picked up my things and walked out the door—but the hospital was never where I planned to go.

"Get down!" I screamed, lunging across the center console to push Rachel toward the steering wheel.

A sharp, metallic pop echoed in the cold night air as a bullet shattered our side mirror into a dozen pieces.

Rachel instinctively slammed on the brakes, causing the heavy SUV to violently overshoot our position.

The tires squealed as Rachel spun the steering wheel, throwing our car onto a dark, unpaved gravel exit ramp.

The sudden, violent jolting of the car sent a massive shockwave through my lower body.

I felt a sudden rush of warm fluid soak through my pants and pool onto the passenger seat.

"My water just broke!" I cried out, clutching my stomach in pure agony.

"I am getting you to a doctor right now," Rachel promised, her voice shaking with adrenaline.

She navigated the winding, rural backroads with the headlights turned completely off to lose the gunman.

We drove in terrifying darkness for another thirty minutes until we finally crossed the Pennsylvania state border.

A small, brightly lit rural hospital appeared like a beacon of hope in the distance.

Rachel skidded to a halt perfectly in front of the emergency room doors and started screaming for a wheelchair.

Two nurses rushed out, loaded me into a chair, and sprinted down the sterile white hallways.

The pain was completely blinding by the time they pushed me into a private delivery suite.

I thought the absolute worst part of the nightmare was finally over.

A doctor rushed into the room, preparing to examine me, but a stern hospital administrator walked in right behind him.

The administrator was holding a tablet and looking at me with deep suspicion.

"We cannot admit this patient for a standard delivery," the administrator announced coldly.

"What are you talking about, she is crowning!" Rachel yelled defensively.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

"Her husband contacted our network an hour ago," the administrator explained.

"He officially flagged her medical insurance, stating that she is suffering from severe postpartum psychosis and has a history of violent delusions."

Chapter 3 - The Broken Water