Not to throw out some pop psychology buzzword, but I was so "Type A" before having children. My need for clean was over the top. I still have visions of vacuuming my way out of my Sarasota, Florida apartment, every day, before heading off to my first TV anchoring job at a small start up station there.

Everything in my life had to be perfect. Years later when I became pregnant with my first child, I knew I could stay the course. It seemed like a great idea on paper, but spit up, colic, and blowout poopy diapers, were clear indicators that I was not in the driver’s seat anymore.

If I couldn’t find the right shoes, to match the right dress, on the way to church on Sunday mornings, that would lead to a tearful breakdown in my daughter Katie's closet. The smallest defeat would make me feel like a failure, until one day I got a tremendous wake up call.

I was pregnant with my second daughter, and I was actually slated to fly to New York to meet the TODAY show team to shoot promotional campaigns. I was so excited to be part of the NBC affiliate in Tampa, and on my way to the Big Apple for a behind the scenes look at TODAY.

I had a doctor’s appointment with my GYN the day before I was scheduled to leave for New York. Everything went well, and on my way out, my doctor told me about a new sonogram machine they were trying out that day in the office. He asked if I wanted to take a peek at my baby. Hello? What mother wouldn’t want to see her wee one in the womb? So, I knocked on the door, and a nurse welcomed me in with open arms. We were laughing, and talking, as she tried out the new machine, when suddenly you could hear a pin drop.

The nurse in a very quiet voice said, “I would like you to see the doctor one more time, Gayle." Apparently, she noticed my cervix looked very short. After a brief exam, my doctor concluded there was no way I could have an incompetent cervix, because this was my second pregnancy, and the first one had no complications. So, I went home, and started getting ready for the big trip!

My phone started ringing off the hook a few hours later. It was my OB-GYN. He told me it was highly unlikely that anything was wrong, but just to play it safe, he wanted me to go see a high-risk doctor. My mom insisted on driving me to the appointment. I tried to convince her this was just a precaution, and certainly not necessary, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Dr. Angel will see you now, Gayle,” said a pleasant sounding nurse, who called me back to an exam room. It didn’t take the doctor long to come in, and he was wearing what looked like a miner’s helmet, with a bright light attached to the top. They flicked off the lights in the exam room, and after just seconds, the light shined bright again. “Is there anyone in the in the waiting room with you, Gayle?” asked Dr. Angel.

Next thing I knew, I was lying down in the back seat of my mom’s car, and on the way to the nearest ER.

My little Lindsay was in the birthing canal, and I was only 21 weeks pregnant.

I was rolled into the operating room on a gurney. The lights were so bright, and there was loud rock n' roll music playing as people bustled around prepping the ER, to save my baby's life.

I was given an epidural and turned virtually upside down on an directional operating table. A sweet nurse was trying to distract me with idle chit chat, but all I could hear was two doctors debating about how aggressive they should be, while trying to push my baby back into uterine.

From that moment on I spent three long months in the hospital, hoping and praying that little Lindsay would stay put until it was safe for her to be born.

There was certainly no TODAY show trip on my agenda, and life as I knew it was temporarily sidelined. I had no control anymore. Now my world, and my baby’s life were in the hands of skilled doctors, and God.

After the surgery, I was put into the first room available at the hospital. The view out my window was a brick wall. I didn’t know if it was sunny or rainy outside. I cried myself to sleep every night wondering how my little Katie was doing at home without me. She was only 16 months old at the time. I often worried how anyone could possibly love and care for her like I would? I felt so helpless.

The weeks and months dragged on, and I was going out of my mind. People were so nice to visit and send cards and emails to make sure I was OK. But, not knowing from one day to the next if I would make it into the safe zone was agonizing.

On December 30, 1999, doctors induced labor fearing Y2K would interfere with safe birthing conditions at the hospital. By late afternoon, I had an 8 pound bouncing baby girl. Lindsay Ann is 16 today, and has three sisters, Katie, Ali and Ella.

My life changed the day she was born, because I realized the gift of a healthy child was greater than any need for perfection. Just loving my daughters and cherishing them every day is the definition of motherhood. Putting my best foot forward, and knowing there will be times when I make mistakes, is all just part of raising children.

Every time I even start to think about how overwhelming life can be at times, I stop and reflect back to those days at the hospital. I think of how blessed I am to have four precious daughters, and I realize one day I will long for this busy and hectic chapter of life.