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The Promise I Made My Son Before He Was Born

I remember lying in the lumpy hospital bed. I had 2 monitors on my belly that hadn’t moved in more than a week and a half.

My arms were purple with bruises from the numerous IV sticks.

The continuous magnesium drip made my face feel like I was on fire but my body felt like I was submerged in the Arctic Ocean.

My body was done with this pregnancy as soon as it had begun.

I felt like I had crawled to this point of the pregnancy with a 747 tied to my back.

We were hoping I’d make it to Sunday.

That was our goal. 25 weeks.

But I was exhausted. Emotionally, physically. I was just so tired of all of the medications, the treatments, the fear that any second my son would be born and I’d have to watch him slip away from me because he was born too soon.

I had amazing friends and family both near and far who were supporting us.

But I still felt so alone.

I was the one carrying him. I was the one who could tell when something went wrong before anyone else could. I was the one who felt like a failure for letting him down, for not being able to protect him the way I, as his mother, am supposed to.

I was infuriated that I had to endure those intense emotions alone, without someone who understood this experience to guide me through the ups and downs. As a therapist, I was so disappointed to realize that the field of psychology - the field I had invested so many years studying to become a part of - actually has no idea how to support women like me who are fighting for a brand new life.

So I made a vow.

That afternoon, as the sun was coming through the one window in my hospital room, I spoke out loud to my son. I told him that if we make it out of this and we all get to go home and be a family together, I’m going to be that person that women can count on during one of the scariest times of their life.

I promised him that our fight would not be in vain.

He was born 2 days later at 24 weeks and 5 days.

This is me honoring my vow.

Today, I’m here as the mother to a miracle boy, to remind you that you are not alone.

I know how hard you’re fighting. I know how alone you feel. I know you say you’re ok, that you’re fine, that it’s hard but you can get through it.

But I also know deep down you just want to sob, because you wish this wasn’t happening. I know how desperately you wish for someone to just take your hand and tell you everything will be ok.

I wish someone could tell you that too.

But since there is no crystal ball that can see into the future, take this message as me reaching out and holding your hand right now. You don’t have to put on that brave face for me. You do not have to go through this alone. I am here with you. (Tweet that!)

Want more?

If you want to hear the whole story, head over to my podcast, Delivering Miracles®, where I go into more details about the last 15 days of my pregnancy, my fertility journey, and so much more.

Each episode I share tips and expert advice on what you can learn from my experiences to help yourself have a healthy high-risk pregnancy.

Listen to episodes filled with tips, motivation and inspiration at

You are not alone. I am here with you.

Take it one day, one step at a time. You can do this.

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