I’ve struggled to share this story because I know many women have endured far worse. But when I reflect on those first weeks after giving birth, I realize how much it would have helped me to hear a story like mine. And hopefully, by sharing this now, I can offer someone else the comfort I needed.
On September 26, 2023, I gave birth to our second son, Luke. The pregnancy had been smooth and uneventful, just like my first, and preeclampsia never crossed my mind. I had always had low blood pressure, even during labor. Luke was born healthy, a beautiful 10 pounds, 4 ounces after a short and uncomplicated delivery. Two days later, we went home, full of anticipation to introduce our new baby to his big brother, Mason.
But on September 29, I started experiencing a persistent headache and blurry vision. I took my blood pressure and was alarmed by how high it was. I returned to labor and delivery, where I was monitored for a few hours, given fluids, and ultimately sent home. I was told it was likely anxiety causing the spike in blood pressure.
The symptoms didn’t go away.
Days later, I was admitted with severe postpartum preeclampsia. I spent the weekend on a magnesium drip, confined to bed rest, unable to hold my newborn. I was given blood pressure medication and told the symptoms would subside by six weeks postpartum.
They didn’t.
From September to November, I returned to the hospital/doctors’ offices 16 more times. Different doctors had different opinions, adjusted my medications differently, and still my blood pressure refused to stabilize. I clung to the hope that things would normalize by six weeks, then eight, then twelve.
Today, over a year and a half later, my blood pressure is finally stable. But I remain under the care of a cardiologist, neurologist, and otolaryngologist, each monitoring complications that linger because of the damage postpartum preeclampsia left behind.
The weeks and months after Luke’s birth were supposed to be filled with joy, healing, and the precious chaos of adjusting to life with two children. Instead, I spent those early days in hospitals and waiting rooms, constant blood pressure checks, missing out on moments I’ll never get back. I find myself grieving the loss of that sacred newborn time with my last baby.
Postpartum preeclampsia is still so poorly understood, and too many women suffer through it silently, unsure of what’s happening or whether their symptoms are being taken seriously. Since my diagnosis, I’ve watched friends walk through similar paths, and it breaks my heart.
Every woman deserves a safe pregnancy, a peaceful postpartum, and the time to simply be with her baby. We owe it to mothers to invest in the research, awareness, and care needed to make that possible.
