“Get out of the car right now,” my mother ordered while rain hammered the highway and my three-day-old twins cried in their car seats, and when I begged her to stop because the babies were newborns, my father grabbed my hair and pushed me out onto the road while the car was still moving…

“Mom please they are just babies,” I begged while reaching protectively toward their seats.

My father suddenly grabbed my hair with brutal force and yanked my head backward while opening the door beside him. Pain exploded across my scalp as the car began moving again because Danielle had started driving forward.

“Dad please stop,” I cried while struggling to hold onto the seat. “The babies are here.”

He shoved me violently out of the door and suddenly the world spun as I slammed onto the wet pavement while the storm soaked through my clothes instantly. For several seconds I could not breathe because the impact knocked the air from my lungs, but then I heard Audrey crying and panic forced me to struggle onto my feet.

The car slowed ahead of me and my mother leaned out of the passenger window holding Audrey’s carrier.

“No please do not do this,” I screamed while running toward them through the rain.

Her face twisted with disgust as she shouted, “Divorced women do not deserve children.”

Then she threw the carrier into the muddy ditch beside the road where Audrey’s cries grew louder. A second later Caleb’s carrier followed through the air and landed beside his sister.

I ran to them despite the agony tearing through my body and grabbed both carriers while checking desperately to make sure they were safe. Both babies were screaming but thankfully protected by their seats.

The car stopped again and Danielle stepped out briefly while I knelt in the mud holding my crying children. For a single hopeful moment I believed she might help us.

Instead she walked up to me, looked directly into my eyes, and spat in my face before saying quietly, “You are a disgrace to this family.”

Then she returned to the car and drove away into the storm.

I remained kneeling there beside the highway holding my babies while rain poured over us and the red taillights disappeared into darkness. For several long moments my mind refused to accept what had happened, but Audrey’s cries finally forced me to move.

I wrapped both babies tightly in the thin hospital blankets and lifted their carriers with shaking arms while beginning the long walk toward distant lights that might lead to help. Each step felt impossible because my body had barely recovered from childbirth and every movement reopened the pain of torn stitches, yet I continued walking because stopping meant risking my children’s lives.