My two pregnancy and birth traumas (PPROM, Bowel Obstruction, and Birth Trauma )
March 27 is a strange milestone for me.
It's the day my water broke three months early with my second pregnancy. And it's the day I became dangerously sick and almost died from a bowel obstruction at the end of my third.
The fact that both of these things happened on the exact same date — four years apart — is something I'm still trying to make sense of.
PPROM: When Your Water Breaks Too Early
On March 27, 2019, I was wrapping up the second trimester of what had been a completely normal, healthy pregnancy.
I went to work. Picked up my one-and-a-half-year-old from daycare. Gave her dinner. Sat down on the couch to read.
And then… my water broke. Out of nowhere. Everywhere.
We rushed to the hospital, terrified we were losing our son.
When your water breaks that early — a condition called PPROM (preterm premature rupture of membranes) — there's no clear roadmap. Doctors do everything they can to keep you pregnant, but no one can tell you what will happen next.
I was given a steroid shot. And then… I waited.
I ended up living in the hospital for the next two months. Beau was born in early May — far from his July due date.
To say that time was stressful is an understatement.
Every time I stood up, I leaked amniotic fluid. Every night I went to bed thinking I'd be rushed into labor. Twice a day, I sat through non-stress tests, holding my breath — hoping they'd find a heartbeat.
But what I remember most aren't the big scary moments.
It's the quiet ones.
Sunday afternoons when the hospital felt empty. Missing Kent and Bailey so much it physically hurt. Ordering apple juice from the cafeteria every time she visited. Watching an almost concerning amount of ER on Netflix.
But it wasn't all bad.
For the first time in my life, I had space to think.
About what I wanted. About my career. About my life.
That time is what pushed me to leave advertising, go back to school, and start my fitness business.
It's where everything began.
High-Risk Pregnancy After PPROM: Trying Again
The years between my second and third pregnancy felt… uncertain.
After PPROM, the risk of recurrence is significantly higher. Add in IVF and my age, and I knew I would be considered high-risk.
I didn't know if I could go through that again.
But every time a friend told me they were pregnant… Every time I packed away Beau's baby clothes…
I wondered.
Eventually, I realized something: Even if it was hard — mentally and physically — I would regret not trying one more time.
I didn't want to live with that "what if."
So we moved our embryos from NYC to Boston. And we tried again.
I got pregnant.
This pregnancy was everything I expected it to be — and more.
Starting at 12 weeks, I had weekly cervical length scans. I was on progesterone. Constantly monitoring for signs of preterm labor. In therapy.
I was waiting for something to go wrong.
But my water didn't break.
I was laser-focused on making it to the end.
CoCo's due date was April 20. I remember thinking: If I can just make it to April 1…
That would be 37 weeks — the furthest I'd ever made it.
A Bowel Obstruction During Pregnancy — and an Emergency C-Section
And then — March 27.
I woke up violently sick.
Throwing up nonstop. It felt like contractions — but something wasn't right.
We called my OB and rushed to the hospital.
No one could figure out what was happening.
I was extremely sick… but not in labor. It didn't add up.
Because I wanted a VBAC so badly, we waited. Monitored. Tried to manage it.
Meanwhile, I was given so many IV fluids that I gained 40 pounds in swelling — my body couldn't process them because of what we didn't yet know was a bowel obstruction during pregnancy.
I couldn't stop throwing up.
For three days.
Finally, a new OB came on shift and ordered a CT scan at 3 AM.
It was a bowel obstruction.
And both CoCo and I were in serious danger.
Right as I heard the diagnosis — my water broke.
Everything happened fast.
I was rushed into emergency surgery for a vertical C-section, then immediately put under general anesthesia for abdominal surgery.
As I went under, I remember one thought:
No one even let me see or touch her.
I don't remember the day she was born.
Birth Trauma Is Real — Even When the Story Has a Happy Ending
The weeks after were heavy.
Physically, I was wrecked. Emotionally, even more so.
I had spent my entire high-risk pregnancy focused on getting through it — and never prepared for something going wrong during delivery.
I still carry birth trauma from that experience.
And yet…
If you met me and my family today, you probably wouldn't know any of this.
My kids definitely don't know the full story.
Life has moved forward. And I've been given the greatest gift — being their mom.
It feels vulnerable to share this.
But I do it because not every pregnancy, delivery, or postpartum experience is picture-perfect.
And not every story needs to be wrapped in a perfect bow to still be meaningful.
