It was a busy week coming up: Easter, family birthdays, and my little sister’s wedding. I was 27 weeks pregnant and lamented in the mirror that suddenly my face was looking a bit puffy, right in time for me to be a bridesmaid. “Isn’t it kind of early for this?” I thought to myself. It’s the same thought I had had about the fatigue and headaches and body aches that had been increasing over the past week or two. It wasn’t so painful that I truly suspected anything was wrong, but while complaining of my symptoms to some friends, I flippantly scoffed that I was “probably dying of preeclampsia like Lady Sybil in Downton Abbey” (a scene that has always stuck with me). On Thursday, March 28, as I was greeting my students before the next class period, I found myself leaning on the wall, hands on my knees, suddenly weak. I jogged to the school nurse, and asked her to take my blood pressure (I knew nothing about blood pressure other than that a few times in my life, I had fainted or nearly fainted from low blood pressure, so I was vaguely familiar of that “off” feeling). It was high. She suggested I call my doctor and they told me to head to the emergency room. At the hospital, my blood pressure was still elevated but less so than it was at work. They sent me home and told me to hang in there for a couple more weeks until my next appointment. The weekend came and it full of celebrations and activities. I didn’t feel for look my best, but I “hung in there,” believing that everything must be ok. On Saturday night, however, I couldn’t sleep. Intense body aches and shoulder pain kept me pacing all night. I vomited, which convinced me it was a stomach bug. Sunday was Easter, and I stayed home most of the day. My mom, who is a nurse and was working all day, stopped by my house with her blood pressure monitor after work. Another high reading, exceptionally high, according to my mom. Back at the hospital. Luckily, my OB was on call. She sat at my feet and said “Maribeth, you have preeclampsia and it’s severe. It may be days or weeks, but you are not leaving this hospital until the baby comes.” I barley had time to process the shock when she returned to say I had to be transferred to another hospital in town. It was HELLP syndrome and the baby would be born in a matter of a few days, maybe even hours. My hospital’s NICU couldn’t take a preemie this small, and she didn’t want us to be separated. Over the next couple days, my symptoms became dramatically worse. I swelled nearly 30 lbs and my vision was spotty. Winona was born on April 2nd. She was 1lb 12 oz and just 12.4 inches tall. She and I watched my sister’s wedding on FaceTime from the NICU. I was hospitalized for 6 days and she was in the NICU for 128. Now, we are both healthy and so happy, but not without our scars, inside and out. I hope my story encourages other women to trust their gut feeling. It could save their life.