Writhing in agony on the labour ward, terrified and frantic, I begged for an end to the torment for us both. In the final moments before I was put to sleep for an emergency caesarean, I made a pact with God. A pact I swore I would keep.

I had lost a baby before; I couldn't lose another. "Let this baby live. Don't let them die. If they make it, I will make it work. Nothing else matters."

I had a little girl. She lived. And by God, did we live. Sixteen beautiful years to the day. 5,844 precious, sacred days.

My Keri blazed through a smog of medical incompetence, wounded and hurting from her first battle but by no means broken.

She fought for me that traumatic night of her mismanaged delivery so we could be together. So that she could show me what life is really about, so that I could learn what I am made of.

This is our love story.

Any profits from book sales will go into a trust fund to help other families.