I developed symptoms at 28 weeks and was put on bedrest at 31 weeks, with a July 29 due date. I spent 10 days hospitalized in antepartum as my condition worsened physically and mentally. Doctors warned me daily about the risks of stroke, seizures, and premature delivery, and I became severely depressed but was too afraid to ask for help.

On Father’s Day, I developed right upper quadrant pain and was rushed to high-risk labor and delivery. The sudden emergency response was traumatic and overwhelming. After two difficult days of induction, worsening blood pressure, and severe swelling, I begged for a C-section.

At 5:29 p.m. on June 17, 2008, my 5-pound, 3-ounce son was born and taken to the NICU. I remained in recovery for hours because my blood pressure would not stabilize. Over the next few days, I recovered from surgery while trying to visit my baby in the NICU.

My son spent two weeks in the NICU before coming home healthy and thriving. But my antepartum depression became postpartum depression. For months, I lived in constant fear that he would die, and I struggled to bond with him because of the trauma and anxiety.

In November 2008, I finally sought help and started treatment for postpartum depression. Slowly, I began healing and trusting that my baby would be okay.

Even now, Memorial Day through June 17 brings back memories of that traumatic time. But today, that tiny premature baby is a strong young man who just graduated high school and hopes to become a first responder.

Our beginning was filled with fear, grief, and trauma, but we made it through, and being his mother has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.