Remembering the hardest time in my life.

Looking back, I wish I didn't remember it all with such clarity.
I can remember every word of the arguments, the derogatory name-calling, and my lack of fear. For the first time, I wasn't afraid of him. I wasn't afraid to stand up and be the strong woman that I am. It's sort of ironic really, considering how things ended up.
And just when I thought I had made it through unscathed, just when I thought I had finally done something good, I felt the warm pressure of hands on my shoulder blades. With perfect clarity, and unimaginable pain, I remember every one of the 14 steps that my belly hit. The others struck things like my hip or arm. They went unnoticed.
Cell phones are a useful invention, and I'm so thankful that I had mine on me. Even while I was dialing, I could feel the burning pain. It stretched from my hips, through my stomach, in my back and in my legs. It was everywhere and consuming. I was distraught, and not making sense.
In the ambulance, they hooked me up with an IV, and I did my best to stay calm. I did my best not to push. The pain was more than I can convey. Visible welts and bruises covered my rounded belly, and arms,legs and everywhere else. This three hour ordeal, from fall to hospital, is like a nightmare that stays with you.
In the hospital, I held my belly and cried my eyes out for 18 hours. They hooked me up to drugs to slow labor, stop contractions, anything they could to help. for 18 hours it looked like we were safe, and in a moment everything changed.
A burning, stretching pain spread like wildfire. I swear I could feel it in my thighs, and in my vaginal canal and all the way back to my rectum. I refused the drugs, Linnea was in enough danger. It took 7 hours of pushing before my beautiful angel came into the world. At the time I thought the labor was the difficult part but the next 18 hours would prove to be worse.
They whisked her away, and she was hooked up to machines. I'm so thankful, looking back, that she wasn't so terrible that I couldn't hold her, touch her and smell her. A head full of the darkest hair I've ever seen, and the prettiest olive skin imaginable, she came into my life like a tornado and tore everything I thought I knew up.
I never left her side, not for one minute. She wasn't able to breastfeed, which I regret every day. I feed her by bottle, and held her and talked to her. Slowly, her awareness, and her vital signs went down hill. Near the 16 hour mark they had to hook her up to a machine that would breathe for her. By 17h30m, she couldn't regain consciousness. I never got to see her eyes again. She was like a doll, but meant so much more. An hour and 6 minutes later, I made the hardest of my life, and I terminated life support on my angel.
To this day, I'll never forgive myself. I just didn't want her to be in any pain, I didn't want her to live a half life, a life that was so much less than her spirit deserved. That was 4 years ago and I'm just now ready to start trying again. I don't think there is much else to say but this.
Linnea, I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry that I tried to be brave in the face of a monster. But mostly, I am so intensely sorry that I cost you your life. Please know that I never wanted this for you. I had imagined teddy bears, and flowers and love. Iw anted to raise, and teach you everything I had to find out for myself. I wanted to be everything my mother wasn't and I wanted to share the world with you. I can only hope that you, and God, will forgive. Oh my angel, you are with my forever, and your future brothers and sisters will know everything about you. You will not be forgotten. I love you.