For most of my pregnancy, everything seemed to be going well. I was in and out of the gym, going to Pilates, going on work trips, taking trips to Disney, enjoying time with friends - almost as if nothing changed besides my big ‘ol belly. 

As I got closer to my due date, I became increasingly swollen and often found myself short of breath more than usual. Like so many expectant mothers, I was told these symptoms could simply be part of late pregnancy. Looking back, they were likely early signs that something much more serious was developing. 

At my 37-week appointment, my blood pressure was elevated for the first time (in my life!!!). My OB asked me to come back the following Monday for another BP check, understanding that I could very well be heading into labor and delivery if it was still elevated. 

Monday, May 4th, came along, and my blood pressure was still high, and at that point, I was diagnosed with gestational hypertension. My doctor explained that the safest treatment was delivery. 

So off to Holmes Regional we went! 

My husband and I walked into Labor & Delivery filled with excitement, nerves, and anticipation. After nine months of waiting, we were finally going to meet our little miracle.

After nearly three days of labor, including two failed epidurals, elevated BP, and a climbing fever, we made the difficult decision late Wednesday night to proceed with a C-section. 

Mateo Aiden, my firstborn son, was born on May 7th, 2026, at 2:39 a.m.

Mateo was immediately taken to the NICU. There was no greeting, no first family photo, and no chance to hold him. I saw our son out of the corner of my eyes, being rolled away in a clear box. My husband followed our son while I remained on the operating table, enduring an incredibly brutal C-section. At that moment, I realized the very first time I had to be strong for my son was seconds after his birth.

Over the next two days, I recovered while making trips to the NICU to visit Mateo. Although heartbroken to be separated from him, we celebrated several small victories: my colostrum came in, family visited, and I finally got to eat the Jersey Mike’s sub I’d been craving for nine months. The only thing missing was my baby.

Then came Sunday, Mother’s Day. 

That morning, Mateo was released from the NICU and brought to my room. I enjoyed every minute with him before everything changed.

The nurses came in and informed me that I was diagnosed with severe preeclampsia. Instead of being discharged, I was told I needed a 24-hour magnesium infusion immediately to avoid the risk of seizures. I was moved to another room, connected to IV medications, and watched my plans for my very first Mother’s Day with Mateo disappear.

The magnesium infusion left me weak, overheated, exhausted, and struggling to breathe. Within an hour, Respiratory brought me a nebulizer. My oxygen levels continued to fall until I was placed on CPAP. Sometime during the night, I was awakened for a chest X-ray.

The next morning, the Cardiologist walked into my room with devastating news. The doctor explained that my heart was enlarged, and that there was fluid in and around my lungs.

I remember looking at my OB, who was also in the room. She looked at me and said words I’ll never forget: “You are the sickest patient on this floor.”

Before I knew it, I was being prepped to move to the Medical ICU. I saw the fear and sadness in my husband’s eyes, a look I’d never seen before. He knew something I didn’t know. I later found out that behind the scenes, he was told to “be prepared.” 

I didn’t fully understand what was happening, but I knew one thing: I had no choice but to keep fighting. I remember a wave of numbness overcame me. For the first time during my hospital visit, I didn't have any tears to cry. I was at the point of acceptance. I understood that I was at a point where my life was in the hands of God and my doctors. 

Before being transferred to the ICU, I remember hugging my husband, holding his hands and his face, and looking into his eyes.  

I told him, “I’ve got this. I’m strong.” 

I held Mateo and told him the same, "Your mommy is strong."

Over the following days, I was diagnosed with pulmonary edema and congestive heart failure caused by severe preeclampsia. I spent the next couple of days undergoing aggressive diuretic therapy, daily chest X-rays, constant blood pressure monitoring, and treatment from an incredible team of physicians, cardiologists, nurses, and respiratory therapists. As the days went on, the fluid left my lungs and exited my body. Slow progress was made everyday, but my BP remained elevated. 

Ultimately, on Thursday, May 15th, I was discharged from the hospital.

Today, as I write this 3 months later, everything that happened still feels almost like a fever dream.

My heart function has recovered. 

My blood pressure has returned to normal. 

My body, especially my feet, aren't swollen anymore.

I’m back at the gym, running, doing Pilates, enjoying time with my friends, working and soaking up every moment with my family. 

Although life has moved forward, I still carry the weight. 

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about the version of myself lying in that ICU bed, the version of me who wasn’t sure she would make it home. She was terrified. She was exhausted. But she was also the strongest version of myself I’ve ever known.

I owe it to her to live the life she fought so hard to keep.

That’s why I created Mateo’s Mom on a Mission.

Through fitness, endurance races, and sharing my story, I hope to raise awareness about the severity of preeclampsia while supporting organizations, such as The Preeclampsia Foundation, dedicated to improving outcomes for mothers and babies.

Preeclampsia doesn’t always look the way people expect. Sometimes the warning signs are dismissed as “just pregnancy.” My hope is that by sharing my story, another family might recognize those signs sooner, another mother might feel empowered to advocate for herself, or another person might choose to support research and education that could save lives.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Whether you choose to donate, join my team and start your own fundraiser, or simply share this page to help spread awareness, your support means more than I can put into words. 

Also, do not forget to write to your local leaders to support H.R. 9061, the Preeclampsia Risk Evaluation and Evidence-based Management through Personalized Testing Act or PREEMPT Act. The bipartisan legislation would ensure state Medicaid programs receive needed information about new innovative testing available to identify pregnant women at risk of or experiencing early signs of preeclampsia at all phases of pregnancy. https://powerslaw.quorum.us/campaign/163936/