November 11, 2001 was a day that for my boyfriend and I started out as pretty much a normal day, but one of great anticipation. We had an appointment at the University of Washington Hospital to see a high risk pregnancy specialist to discuss whether or not I could safely get and maintain a pregnancy due to my medical issues. Being that it had only been 7 months since I had my stroke and coma and the fact that I was 38 and I had a history of hypertension, my boyfriend and I were advised to seek a specialist.

Our appointment was already set weeks before the day of what many consider one of the biggest tragedies in