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The Anniversary I Never Wanted 3.14


March 14. Three years ago today, I walked into my two-week postpartum visit expecting a routine checkup. I thought I’d hear that I was healing well, maybe get some advice on balancing recovery with life as a mom of two. Instead, I was blindsided.

My blood pressure was dangerously high. So high that the doctor refused to let me leave the office without promising to go straight to the hospital. I didn’t get to go home, pack a bag, or prepare myself for what was coming—I was just sent. Alone.

Whether it was because of the pandemic, the time of year, or just bad luck, I felt completely isolated. That’s what I remember most—being alone. Sitting in that hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, processing the fact that my body was still betraying me. I had already been through so much, and now, instead of healing, I was back in a place I never wanted to be.

Family stepped in to help, making sure everything was handled at home. I knew I wasn’t needed there in that moment, but that was the only place I wanted to be. I sobbed and asked to see my baby for the two days I was there.

Someone did come to visit, but they didn’t stay long. There were other responsibilities, other things happening. And in that moment, it felt like I didn’t matter as much as everything else going on in their world. I was scared, and I was alone.

Eventually, I called my cardiologist’s office directly and got him brought in to consult on my case. Together, we came up with a plan. I was released from the hospital, but the experience left a mark. This was supposed to be a time of rest, bonding, and healing. Instead, it was filled with fear, uncertainty, and the overwhelming realization that postpartum isn’t always about rocking chairs and lullabies. Sometimes, it’s about survival.

I didn’t know then that this was only the beginning of what would become one of the hardest stretches of my life. But on this day, three years later, I sit with the memory of what it felt like to be told I wasn’t okay, to be rushed to the hospital, to be left sitting in a room alone, wondering how much more my body—and my heart—could take.

If you’ve ever felt alone in your postpartum journey, I see you. You’re not alone. Let’s talk about it in the comments.

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