I'm concerned I won't get a fair chance with my child. I lost my two babies, and now they want to take Dylan away. If they take him, I don't have a reason to live.

The people he needs the most in his life were taken away from him. I mean he's been through so much. He doesn't understand what's going on. He thinks he's being punished. . . . And it's so hard for me to go see him because I have to leave him.

I'm worried because they said I couldn't sleep in the same bed as my son. I feel like they feel I'm going to hurt him or molest him or something.

We work with them on their problems so they can be healthy and have healthy babies. We educate them and talk about what's involved in a healthy pregnancy.

There is a child - a baby - who long since kicked off her blankets. Her skin is ashen and her mouth open in a perpetual yet silent scream. She isn't old enough to roll over, to sit up, to climb. So she lies there kicking her fat legs against the footboard of the crib, eternally calling for her mother. For food. For flesh.

I delivered seven babies. My goal was to deliver a set of twins, but I never got the chance.