A 22-year-old woman who was almost 9 months pregnant was stabbed and killed in New York earlier this week. The attacker was a friend of hers. Her baby was cut out from her womb. The baby is still alive.
Ashleigh Wade killed her pregnant friend. When the police arrived on the horrific scene she initially claimed the baby was her’s. Then she claimed that her friend attacked her and she killed her in self-defense. Ashleigh Wade also takes credit for saving the baby. She said “she wanted to save the baby”.
She is now charged with second degree murder and manslaughter. She is currently in the psych ward at Elmhurst Hospital reports Abc11.com
Photo: Ashleigh Wade from Facebook via NYpost.com
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What It Really Feels Like When Your Terminally Ill Child DiesBy Contributor
By Sheryl Steines
That Moment in Time – When it felt time to have my first child, I knew it, and approached it as inevitable.
But my next steps in life didn’t follow a straight path, it jerked sideways and turned out nothing like I imagined it would.
I define my life as the before and the after; before the birth of my twins and the single moment when I thought I had reached the end of a long struggle with infertility, hoping that the girls’ birth would minimize the sadness of the time it took to get pregnant with them.
That single moment when I realized it was far from over, and I felt myself being wrenched down an unfamiliar abyss.
While I was elated to give birth to a perfectly healthy little girl named Kayla, I also gave birth to her twin, a perfectly imperfect daughter named Stephanie, born with an undiagnosed neuromuscular disorder that in the end, would take her from us within the first year of her life.
What should have been the happiest of days could best be described as bittersweet.
For months, I was lost in that single moment, and how everything changed.
Living with a Terminally Ill Child – Emotions and senses are heightened when living with a terminally ill child.
Her muscles were weak, which affected her breathing, eating, digestion, and bowels.
She couldn’t sit or roll over.
She would never be able to eat, stand or sit without assistance.
Nothing in her life was normal, which meant that our lives became un-normal too.
Milestones, accomplishments, and even simple things like laughter were infrequent or just never happened.
Days and nights were consumed keeping Stephanie’s tiny, broken body stable and at peace.
For eleven months we had been successful and looking back now, the days flash by me in a blur, and yet, I can still relive them as if they were yesterday.
My daughter’s care routine involved round-the-clock nurses, feeding tubes, oxygen tanks, and medical equipment that beeped.
It was difficult to obtain medicines; and oxygen tanks ran empty on weekends.
Unfortunately, many times we were forced to wait for care because services and goods were not available until after a holiday or weekend.
These stressors tied me to a single moment in time, it is like I went through the motions.
The world was moving, but I felt stuck.
Unable to let it go, I couldn’t help but wish things had been different, normal, familiar.
I was angry, I was hurt and I was jealous.
In fact, the angst, anger, and sadness was compounded as one child thrived normally and hit her milestones with ease.
It became so obvious that Stephanie lagged far behind.
She would never roll over, sit up, drink from a sippy cup, crawl or walk.
I was forced to come to very difficult terms and make some very hard decisions.
Joy in the Darkness – From the start, we knew there was no cure for Stephanie’s disease because there was no real diagnosis.
The only truth we understood–Stephanie would die.
So I worked hard to find joy in a hopeless situation.
There might not be joy in the traditional sense of caring for a terminal patient, but what you come to understand is that there are good, kind people who give you a glimmer of help and hope.
Volunteers filled my life for 11 months.
Whether they held my child in the ICU when I couldn’t be there to do it myself or came to my house to run errands so I could have just a few moments of down time.
There are no words for the care and comfort from strangers who ask for nothing in return.
Nurses taught me how to be a mommy to a terminally ill child, encouraging me to hold my child without fear.
They offered suggestions on how to bond, by taping myself reading a book and leaving the tape at the hospital so my child would know my voice.
Stephanie did know my voice and it made her happy when she heard it.
I will never forget a very grim and private conversation with the hospice nurse, who allowed me to speak freely, without shame as I dealt with the most difficult of situations.
At the worst of times, when I could no longer travel with Stephanie, because she outgrew the only car seat that could protect her in her condition, her pediatrician came to the house to examine her.
I liked him before he did this and I would forever appreciate his kindness, long after she died.
It all Stopped the Day She Died – Life moved slowly, sluggish and tight; what I imagine walking through quicksand would feel like.
That is until a new moment jerked me from what finally felt familiar, and a new moment chased me down.
I will never forget my new single moment when I watched my baby die.
The end of caring for a terminally ill child came to me in two stages.
The first was relief that I no longer had to live in the midst of the stress nor the need to care so intensely.
Though the relief was filled with great sadness, I had little time to dwell on it.
There was still so much we had to do for the funeral, and for my surviving twin who still needed care and love.
At least for the time being, I had no medicine, beeping equipment, nurses, or that stress that comes with survival.
The second stage was the overwhelming sense of loss that finally hit me.
All of the stress and the feelings that had been tightly kept inside, bubbled to the surface.
Four months after my daughter died, I came face to face with the raw grief.
I’m part of a club that I would prefer not to be a member of.
I don’t look for a greater meaning or purpose in my daughter’s disease and death.
I simply survived it and came through to the other side with a realization that so many in this world have great struggles.
Sadness will never leave me and though I will always have a missing piece from my heart, I came out stronger, more compassionate and empathetic to others and the struggles they try to overcome.
Stephanie’s short life and eventual death inspires me to continue living, creating, growing and accomplishing; to leave behind a legacy.
I have a strong desire for my children to be proud of me, and for me, proud of myself.
I live, not because my daughter died, but because I am here.
Learn more about Sheryl Steines at www.sherylsteines.com and connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, Linked In and Goodreads. Her new book, Black Market is available on Amazon.
RISE NEWS is a grassroots journalism news organization that is working to change the way young people become informed and engaged in the world. You can write for us.
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Former GOP Florida Congressman: Trump Should Get “Accessory Charges” In Gianforte Case
Former Florida Republican Congressman David Jolly is not a big fan of Donald Trump.
Jolly lost re-election in a very close race to former Republican turned Independent turned Democrat Charlie Crist in large part due to anti-Trump backlash in his swing Tampa area district.
Since the election, Jolly has been a constant critic of the President on Twitter.
But after the news that Montana Republican congressional candidate Greg Gianforte body slammed a reporter, Jolly upped his anti-Trump ante.
Hey county prosecutor, file assault charges against @gianforte, and accessory charges against @realDonaldTrump.https://t.co/OyaqT5frTn
— David Jolly (@DavidJollyFL) May 25, 2017
That is one mad Republican.
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Here’s The Email That Shut Down LA’s Schools
The email that led to the controversial closing of all Los Angeles public schools has been obtained by multiple media organizations including KTLA and KABC.
According to Vice News, the email was sent from a user using the address, [email protected]
READ: Email that shut down LA schools.
“TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
I am emailing you to inform you of the happenings on Tuesday, 12/15/15.
Something big is going down. Something very big. It will make national headlines. Perhaps, even international ones. You see, my last 4 years here at one of the district high schools has been absolute hell. Pure, unmitigated, agony. The bullying, the loneliness, the rejection… it is never-ending. And for what? Just because I’m ‘different’?
No. No more. I am a devout Muslim, and was once against violence, but I have teamed up with a local jihadist cell as it is the only way I’ll be able to accomplish my massacre the correct way. I would not be able to do it alone. Me, and my 32 comrades, will die tomorrow in the name of Allah. Every school in the L.A. Unified district is being targeted. We have bombs hidden in lockers already at several schools. They are strategically placed and are meant to crumble the foundations of the very buildings that monger so much hate and discrimination. They are pressure cooker bombs, hidden in backpacks around the schools. They are loaded with 20 lbs. of gunpowder, for maximum damage. They will be detonated via Cell Phone. Not only are there bombs, but there are nerve gas agents set to go off at a specific time: during lunch hour. To top it off, my brothers in Allah and I have Kalashnikov rifles, Glock 18 Machine pistols, and multiple handheld grenades. The students at every school in the L.A. Unified district will be massacred, mercilessly. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.
If you do end up trying to, by perhaps, beefing up security, or canceling classes for the day, it won’t matter. Your security will not be able to stop us. We are an army of Allah. If you cancel classes, the bombings will take place regardless, and we will bring our guns to the streets and offices of Los Angeles, San Bernardino, Bakersfield, and San Diego.
I wish you the best luck. It is time to pray to allah, as this may be your last day.”
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