I am a two-time survivor of postpartum preeclampsia. I am also a Licensed Professional Counselor and specialize in treating trauma in youth during my day-job. I am a mom of two healthy and thriving children: my son, Fischer Keith Clemens, and my daughter, Hunter Miracle Clemens. I am married to an amazing man and Registered Nurse, Brandyn, who is my best friend and one of the people who saved my life.

My story began in mid-Michigan in February of 2022. I was 37 weeks pregnant with my first child. My pregnancy was healthy other than contracting COVID in November of 2021 at the beginning of my third trimester. Due to this, our baby was monitored weekly by non-stress tests and ultrasounds. I had just arrived home from a weekly OB appointment on a cold and snowy afternoon. On my way home, I picked up some last-minute delivery and postpartum items from Target and was excited to settle-in for a cozy evening by the fireplace… until all my plans drastically changed in one moment. I landed belly down on the cold, hard ice.

Upon arrival at OB Triage, I learned that I would be staying to deliver our baby as my blood pressure was high, and I was having contractions that were two to three minutes apart. After more than 24 hours later, Fischer was finally born by c-section after a difficult labor which included accidental rupture of membranes, Pitocin, and an Epidural. I will never forget my nurse in the recovery room saying to me, “girl, you better rest or you might have to go on mag., and you don’t want that”. I had no idea what that meant; but she sounded serious, so I took a nap.

 The next two days were filled with nausea and vomiting for me, light therapy and a circumcision for Fischer, painful breastfeeding, and healing from major abdominal surgery. Finally, after a total of four painful and exhausting days, we were discharged home with instructions to monitor my blood pressure twice daily, care for my incision, and several pages of instructions to care for Fischer. My legs and feet were so swollen that only a size too big of sweatpants and a pair of crocs would fit. Nothing had gone the way I hoped or expected. But I was going home with our beautiful baby boy.

 Two days later, I ended up back on the Labor and Delivery Unit. This time, thinking “I am going to die” as I stared at my husband holding our newborn baby. Nurses flooded my room and quickly started IV medication called Magnesium Sulfate to prevent my body from seizing. I cried, “what is happening to me?” as my legs started shaking uncontrollably and my vision blurred to darkness. Minutes later, it felt like fire was burning through my veins and my body calmed. I did not die.

 About 18 months later, I realized I was in another living nightmare. I was two days postpartum with my baby girl upstairs in the NICU when my nurse called for a rescue med as my blood pressure shot into the severe range. I could not believe that this was happening to me again. This time, my baby was a few floors away from me, and I had horrific memories clouding my mind. I did not trust my body, and I did not feel in control. I did advocate for myself this time.

My husband and I went on an emotional roller coaster with our daughter in the NICU for nearly ten days. She had high white blood cells and Thrombocytopenia which is low platelets, due to an unknown cause. Thankfully, this resolved without any intervention other than IV antibiotics, and she has been healthy since discharge.

Not only have I been on a physical healing journey since these experiences, but I’ve also had to heal emotionally from the trauma I endured. I am now learning how grief and gratitude can coexist. I grieve the birthing and postpartum experiences I wanted but did not receive with both of my children. I never got to experience delivering a child vaginally. I never had a “golden hour” with either of my babies. I never experienced immediate postpartum without blood pressure cuffs, medications, headaches, swelling, and terror.

I’m also overwhelmed with gratitude. I am forever grateful to the countless nurses and providers who cared for me and my children. Nurses are extraordinary… and I’m not just saying that because I’m married to one. I am grateful for my family and friends. People are not meant to do life alone and I certainly could not have survived parenthood thus far without our village. I’m grateful for good health insurance and good therapists. I’m grateful for my babies and I’m grateful to my body. I am not grateful for the experiences I went through, but I am proud of how I continue to overcome and advocate for myself daily. I hope that by sharing my experiences, I will help to save lives. It is also my hope to help those who have gone through something terrible during what is supposed to be the happiest time of their lives. You are not alone.