My husband and I truly had a relatively easy pregnancy until week 37, which honestly makes everything that happened afterward feel even more surreal looking back. Despite my underlying blood disorders, things had gone smoothly for months and we spent so much of the pregnancy feeling excited, hopeful, and incredibly grateful. We talked constantly about meeting our daughter, Norma Sloane, who was due on 12/26. We imagined our first Christmas with her, folded tiny clothes together, prepared the nursery, and dreamed about becoming parents together.

Then suddenly, around week 37, I developed intense itching that lasted for about three days straight. It became impossible to ignore because it was affecting my sleep, my ability to function, and my anxiety was already heightened during pregnancy. I truly thought it might be cholestasis, so I contacted my doctor and specialist team because something in me just felt unsettled. Even then, I worried I was overreacting or letting anxiety get the best of me, but I said something anyway.

They immediately sent me for labs in the same building as their offices, and while I expected maybe reassurance or monitoring, I instead got a phone call while I was at work telling me my blood pressure was dangerously high and my liver acids were alarmingly elevated. I was told I needed to go to the hospital that very night because I had developed severe preeclampsia. My doctors had already alerted the hospital we were coming. I cannot even fully describe the fear that hit me in that moment. One second I thought we still had weeks left before meeting our daughter, and the next second I was being told that both of our lives could potentially be at risk. I think having blood disorders already made everything feel even more terrifying because my pregnancy already carried extra medical complexity, so hearing that my body was now under this kind of stress felt overwhelming beyond words.

Once admitted, everything happened quickly: constant blood pressure monitoring, bloodwork, magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures, Pitocin, eventually the epidural, and then 48 straight hours of induction. It was exhausting physically and emotionally. The magnesium made me feel heavy and disconnected from my own body while fear and adrenaline carried me through the experience. I kept thinking about my daughter and how badly I needed both of us to survive this.

Then after those incredibly long 48 hours, everything suddenly happened so fast—Norma Sloane was born within 45 minutes, healthy and safe on 12/7, just in time for Christmas. Hearing her cry for the first time after everything we had endured felt like finally breathing again after holding my breath for days. I truly do not think I will ever fully process how close things could have come to ending differently.

Sometimes I still replay the “what ifs” in my mind: what if I ignored the itching, what if I stayed quiet because I thought I was being dramatic, what if my doctors had not listened to me immediately. One or both of us genuinely might not be here. That reality stays with me deeply, which is exactly why I want other women to hear this: please listen to your body. You are not dramatic for speaking up. You are not weak for advocating for yourself. You deserve to be taken seriously when something feels wrong. For me, three days of itching changed everything, and saying something may have saved both my life and my daughter’s. Today, I am beyond grateful to be alive, beyond grateful for modern medicine and attentive doctors, and beyond grateful that my husband and I get to do this together—to experience the beautiful chaos of parenthood together and raise this incredible little girl we love more than words could ever explain.