She remembers the moment clearly. Something felt off. Her belly felt heavy, and a sense of dread settled in her chest. She looked at her daughter and sobbed, “She is so sorry. Please, please be okay.” She was terrified, unsure if she could protect my baby from what felt like imminent danger.
Earlier in her pregnancy, her doctor had told her she had a short cervix, and she would need a cerclage, a stitch to help keep her cervix closed and prevent preterm labor. She was nervous but hopeful, trusting the medical team and doing everything she could to keep her baby safe. But no matter how careful she was, she couldn’t shake the fear that something could go wrong.
That day, the heaviness in her belly felt different, more urgent. I tried to ignore it, tried to convince myself it was just normal pregnancy discomfort. But her gut told her otherwise. She had learned to listen to it after all the highs and lows of pregnancy, and it was screaming at her that something wasn’t right.
She called her doctor immediately. Every minute felt like an hour as she waited for guidance, trying to stay calm for her daughter while panic bubbled up inside her. The thought of losing this baby, after everything she had gone through, was unbearable. She couldn’t imagine the heartbreak, and she couldn’t imagine telling anyone, least of all her daughter, that her sibling might not make it.
The doctors reassured her, told her to come in, and soon she was on her way to the hospital. Each contraction, each twinge of pain, felt like a warning sign. She held onto hope while simultaneously bracing for the worst. When she arrived, the medical team moved quickly, monitoring her, checking her cervix, and making sure both she and her baby were safe.
Thankfully, the cerclage was holding. Her baby was stable. Relief washed over her, mixed with tears of gratitude and lingering fear. She had been given another chance. Another chance to carry her baby to term, to hold them safely in her arms, and to see them grow alongside their older sibling.
This experience was a stark reminder of how fragile pregnancy can be. No matter how prepared they think they are, no matter how many precautions they take, sometimes their bodies have their own plans. But it also reminded her of the incredible support they have in our medical teams, their families, and their own instincts as mothers. Listening to your body, advocating for your child, and asking for help when something feels wrong can make all the difference.
After that day, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination. She promised herself she would not take a single moment for granted. She would continue to monitor her body, rest when needed, and seek help without hesitation. And most importantly, she would cherish every movement, every kick, and every heartbeat as a reminder that her baby was fighting alongside her.
Through fear and uncertainty, she learned the power of resilience and hope. She learned that it’s okay to feel scared and vulnerable, and it’s okay to reach out for support. Most of all, she learned that even in moments of panic, love for their children can give them the courage to act, to protect, and to keep going, no matter how heavy the burden feels.
That day was terrifying, but it also reminded her that love, instinct, and action can carry us through even the darkest moments. Her baby was safe, her heart was full, and her family had grown stronger in ways she could never have imagined.
