My pregnancy started off completely normal. I had all the usual first-trimester symptoms—nausea, fatigue, food aversions—but once I hit the second trimester, I felt amazing. I had great energy, my blood pressure was naturally low and stayed in a healthy range, and everything seemed textbook.

Toward the end of the second trimester, I started to swell. My feet, hands, and face puffed up, but I swell easily even when I’m not pregnant, especially in heat or after salty foods, so I didn’t think much of it. At 32 weeks, my OB mentioned the swelling looked significant, but my blood pressure was still fine. We agreed to keep monitoring.

At 34 weeks, I had a regular appointment. I almost went alone, but something told me to bring my husband. I’m so glad I did. My blood pressure read 150/90, and I had protein in my urine. My OB sent me straight to the hospital, thinking my BP would stabilize with rest.

It didn’t. It got worse.

I was admitted immediately and started on magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures. I was so swollen the nurses struggled to get an IV in. The diagnosis: preeclampsia. I was only 34 weeks, so they began an induction. First Cytotec, then a Foley balloon. I received dexamethasone shots to help mature my baby’s lungs, and after little dilation progress, my water was broken manually and Pitocin began.

The contractions started, and I asked for an epidural. But after being bedridden for three days, moving for the epidural caused my son to have decelerations. He became non-responsive, and I was rushed in for an emergency C-section.

It turned out the cord was wrapped around his neck. Thank God we acted fast.

He was born just under 35 weeks, 19.25 inches long, and 5.5 lbs. He could breathe and eat on his own, but spent five days in the NICU for jaundice monitoring and to stabilize his temperature. Meanwhile, my blood pressure refused to come down. Despite oral meds and IV drugs, it stayed dangerously high—at times reaching 170/110.

I spent a full week in the hospital. And then, I had to go home without my baby.

That moment—leaving without him—was one of the hardest of my life. It felt wrong, heartbreaking, unnatural. I visited the NICU every day, watching him grow stronger and fight with everything he had. And after five days, we finally got to bring him home.

Preeclampsia changed everything. I lost my peaceful third trimester, my birth plan, and the early days of bonding. But I didn’t lose my baby—and I didn’t lose myself.

It was traumatic, terrifying, and lonely at times. But we made it. We are survivors. My son, my husband, and I—we faced the storm and came out stronger.

This wasn’t the birth story I imagined, but it’s the one that made me a mom. And I’ll never stop being proud of it.