Burning with fever and barely able to move, I pleaded with my husband, Ryan, to come home and help with our baby, Lily. He assured me he was on his way, but as the minutes stretched into hours, I grew weaker, struggling even to lift my head. Lily’s cries filled the room, but I couldn’t comfort her. Something was seriously wrong.Desperate, I reached out to Ryan again. He claimed he was stuck in traffic, yet we lived in a small town where traffic was never an issue.

My gut told me something wasn’t right. With trembling hands, I texted his coworker, Mike, asking if Ryan was still at work. The response was instant and devastating—Ryan had never left.A cold dread settled over me, but I was too sick to process my emotions. I needed help. I called our neighbor, Mrs. Thompson, who wasted no time rushing over and taking me to the hospital. There, doctors diagnosed me with a severe kidney infection that had nearly turned septic. If I had waited any longer, I might not have survived.