The dots were the first sign.
I’d seen my blood pressure creep up before, but it usually went back down. That Friday, at 38 weeks pregnant, the numbers stayed high; first 127/90, then 136/98. I laid down and tried to rest, thinking maybe it was just nerves. But when I started seeing little dots in my vision, something told me: go in early, because I knew this was a warning sign of preeclampsia.
My OB’s words were calm but firm when she saw my numbers: “Well, I guess, we’re having a baby this weekend!”
That hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn’t brought my hospital bag, hadn’t washed my hair, I’d just wrapped my last day of work and was planning to spend the next couple of weeks getting the nursery ready. But a few hours after I arrived for just a routine checkup, things were about to take a turn for the unexpected.
My husband and I got married in November 2022, and we knew we wanted to start a family right away. We were a little older, so we didn’t want to wait. When things weren’t moving quickly, I asked my doctor to run tests. Everything came back normal on my end, but then we got an email through a patient portal: low sperm count.
That was it. No instructions, just a few startling words on a screen.
We moved quickly into IVF, which was an emotional rollercoaster. Our first embryo didn’t take, and I was devastated. But thankfully, our second transfer brought us my little one. I remember when we graduated from the fertility clinic to my OB - it felt like a huge milestone. I took it day by day, barely allowing myself to believe it was real.
I was so scared still, that I didn’t post on social, and I didn’t make a big announcement. I just kept moving forward one appointment at a time, one foot in front of the other.
Around the same time, two close friends were also pregnant. It was fun and it felt special, because we were all going through something big together and could support one another and compare notes. But then one of them experienced a late-term loss. I still get choked up thinking about it.
I was heartbroken for her, but also scared. Until that point, I had finally started to relax into my pregnancy. But suddenly I couldn’t ignore how fragile it all felt. Even after my anatomy scan, after 27 weeks when they say things are much safer, nothing felt guaranteed.
From that point on, every little symptom was magnified for me. I started tracking my blood pressure daily. My wonderful OB gave me permission to call or go in anytime. She told me, “Have a low threshold for your symptoms. Don’t worry about bothering me.”
I know it’s not typical, but I still went in for my annual breast screening. I almost canceled it because I was heavily pregnant and exhausted. But I’m so glad I went, because they ended up finding a mass.
The urgency of my doctor’s recommendation showed me how critical it was to get this taken care of asap: You need to get this biopsy before you go into labor, she said. That could be at any moment, because I was getting close.
I’ll never forget the mammogram. I began to produce milk during the scan, and I burst into tears. It was my first glimpse of what my body was preparing to do, and it was happening during one of the most vulnerable moments of my life. Thankfully, the results were benign. But it was yet another layer of stress, and I’m sure it contributed to what came next.
Back to that Friday night, at week 38 of my pregnancy and I felt fine. I didn’t feel sick, or anything out of the ordinary. But the dots in my vision were very worrisome to me, based on what I had read, and my blood pressure was still high. I decided to head to my hospital early for my non-stress test, because something told me something was off.
I told my husband not to bother bringing the bags. This is just routine, I said. But deep down, I knew. In the car, I remember thinking, This is going to be the outfit I give birth in, isn’t it?
At the hospital, things escalated. My OB came in and said the words that changed everything:
“So! Looks like we’re having a baby this weekend!”
That was also the first time I heard the word preeclampsia in relation to my pregnancy. I was admitted immediately. Late Sunday night, I was put on magnesium. That medicine was awful, and like catching the flu in an instant. My body felt heavy and muted, like everything was slowed down.
They tried to induce me with pills but I didn’t progress. Then they attempted a cervical exam, and it was excruciating. I’d never experienced pain like that, and I almost started crying. I remember thinking, If I can’t even get through an exam, how am I supposed to deliver this baby?
That’s when my OB said she strongly recommended a C-section. I said yes without hesitation. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and so ready to meet my new baby.
I thought I’d be calm, but walking into the OR without my husband rattled me. The lights, the number of people, the sheer size of the room - it all hit me at once. But the nurses were helpful and kind, and one of them whispered, “They’re joking around in there. That’s a good sign. It means everything’s going well,” when they saw that I was worried that people were having too much fun (that’s how nervous I was). That immediately helped calm my nerves.
When my husband was in the room, they let my husband choose the music, and he picked a beautiful song, which made me feel more at ease. When they pulled my baby out, she was crying immediately, and I remember thinking: She’s here. She’s really here!
I actually recognized her cheeks from the ultrasound.
We stayed in the hospital until Wednesday. But by that Friday, I was back in the ER. My blood pressure had spiked again, but this time it was a very high 153/105, and I was terrified. I had a one-week-old baby at home, and now I was back under bright hospital lights. I was so scared they were going to give me more magnesium.
Thankfully, they didn’t - but they were this close to admitting me, because I was right under the threshold of 160 for getting admitted. They adjusted my meds and let me go home.
But the fear didn’t fade easily. I remember lying in bed that night, still worried that something would happen.
I had no risk factors. I was healthy. I felt fine most of the time. That’s why preeclampsia is so scary, because it doesn’t always feel dramatic, and you can easily miss symptoms. You have to really listen to your body.
If you're pregnant or postpartum and something feels even a little bit off: check your blood pressure, and when in doubt, go in. Call your doctor, and don’t wait. You might feel silly or tired, or not know what to do with your newborn, but it could save your life.
One of the most critical things you can do that will help you is to have a plan of action if you do have to go back to the ER - figure out who can stay back and take care of the little one if the time comes. Having that set up beforehand will go a long way in giving you peace of mind.
I’m eight weeks postpartum now. Breastfeeding is going well. The baby is healthy, and I’m finally starting to feel like myself again. But I’ll never forget how anxiety-forming things got, and how grateful I am that I listened to my body.
I also didn’t realize how much Mahmee could help beyond just breastfeeding, which they had helped me with. They offer postpartum support, mental health care, nutrition, and even blood pressure monitoring - all from one place. Knowing that kind of whole support is out there makes me feel a lot more confident for the future.
Having a support team from Mahmee when I was dealing with the initial stages of preeclampsia would have been an excellent option.
