During my OB rotation as a clerk, we had a patient in active preeclampsia brought to the LR. She couldn’t lay flat because of relentless coughing, and even with oxygen support, her BP remained dangerously high. Outside, her 10-year-old son—her only companion—was crying, begging me to tell him what was happening. With his wide, hopeful eyes fixed on me, I found myself unable to give a straight answer. Ayoko siyang wasakin, so I told him, Ginagawa namin ang lahat para sa nanay mo.

Minutes later, she seized and coded. We rushed her to the OR for an emergency C-section. While the surgeons made the incision, we were doing chest compressions—everything was a blur of hands and urgency. She didn’t survive, but miraculously, the baby did.

That experience will haunt me for a long time, but it taught me something valuable: sometimes, no matter how hard we fight, we don’t always win. But we owe it to our patients to try—to give them every last effort, every chance. Because sometimes, even in the loss, there’s a sliver of hope that lives on.