Our Journey

"At 31 weeks, I experienced a placental abruption—a life-threatening complication that changed everything in an instant. There was no time for panic. I told my husband to take our son to daycare and drove myself to the hospital, alone and bleeding. By the time I arrived, the bleeding hadn’t stopped. I heard the words “STAT C-section” as I was rushed into surgery—still alone.

In that sterile, urgent space, I focused on one truth: I was about to meet my baby. We hadn’t learned the gender, so I was the first to know—a daughter. I saw her tiny, fragile body and spoke the name I had quietly held in my heart: Penelope Mae. That moment—naming her, meeting her first—was mine, a powerful anchor amid chaos.

Then came the NICU. Time slowed. Alarms and monitors replaced lullabies. I sat beside her incubator, whispering, “You’re going to be okay.” Born nine weeks early, Penelope was small but fierce. She grew stronger each day, hitting tiny milestones that felt miraculous—her first breath without oxygen, her first feeding, opening her eyes.

Eventually, we brought her home.

Her birth wasn’t what I imagined. It was terrifying, isolating, and quiet. But it was also transformative. In the chaos, I discovered my own strength. I mothered through fear, through urgency, through stillness.

That day split my life into before and after. And I emerged not just intact—but stronger.

Penelope’s story began in emergency, but what lingers is not the fear. It’s the strength.
Hers.
Mine.
Ours.

She came early.
She came urgently.
She came to meet me first.
And somehow, that feels exactly right." NICU Mama, Libby