Stronger than Expected

July 6 had turned out to be one of the best days in my life. After taking multiple pregnancy tests, the day had finally come. I was overfilled with compassion and joy when I learned I was pregnant. Not entirely sure on how to tell my significant other, I created a little poster with a title that said “BABY HOLZWORTH ??”.

So much love had filled the air within my self it was so hard to contain my excitement. Thinking about the little butterfly that would start to grow within me felt so surreal. I remember my first OBGYN appointment vividly. My heart pounded, my palms became clammy, and a wave of nervous anticipation washed over me. As I sat in the waiting room, I suddenly heard my name “Chalani”.

I got up, followed the nurse, set my belongings down, and laid on the table. The ultrasound tech applied gel on the abdominal transducer and placed it on my stomach. Then, there it was- a tiny black circle with a little white bean inside. It took my breath away. I realized my life was about to change forever. This was just the beginning.

In the days following my appointment, I started noticing the subtle changes in my body. Morning sickness crept in, waves of nausea becoming an unexpected part of my routine. My energy levels shifted,

Some days I felt unstoppable, while others, exhaustion hit me like a train. Every little sensation, from tenderness in my body to sudden cravings, was a constant reminder that my body was no longer just mine- it was now home to something more precious.

As the symptoms became more noticeable, so did the reactions of those around me. My significant other started checking in more. My friends and family had endless advice- some helpful, some just assuming. It felt like everyone around me was adjusting to this new reality alongside of me.

Weeks passed, and soon it was time for my next appointment—the one where I would hear my baby’s heartbeat for the first time. I remember rushing after work, telling my best friend that she had to come with me since I was her ride home. She was the first person to know I was pregnant, so it only felt right for her to be there.

Once again, my heart pounded, my palms became clammy, and then it was my turn. They took my weight, checked my blood pressure, and grabbed the fetal Doppler. The cold gel touched my stomach, and the search began. Then, we heard it—the rapid, rhythmic sound of my baby’s heartbeat. I looked at my best friend, and tears filled my eyes. So much joy and excitement washed over me—it was one of the best moments of my life.

As much as pregnancy was filled with excitement and anticipation nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

My journey took an unexpected turn when I was diagnosed with pregnancy-induced hypertension, and my baby began measuring smaller than she should have. I was referred to a high-risk specialist who made it clear that their priority was keeping both me and my baby safe

With every appointment, I questioned myself more and more, wondering if this was something I could have prevented. The specialist reassured me, “Sometimes, these things just happens during pregnancy”. but that didn’t ease my mind. I was 23 years old, pregnant for the first time, and wondering- how could this be happening to me?

As the weeks passed, my baby continued to fall behind in growth. Then two and a half. Then three. My doubts grew alongside the numbers.

I remember leaving work an hour early to go see the specialist, only to receive devastating news- I was being admitted to the hospital. my blood pressure was too high and my amniotic fluid was dangerously low. Things weren’t looking good.

The high risk specialist told me “ it would be a surprise for you to make it to 37 weeks”. The chances were slim.

Two weeks later, my amniotic fluid had dropped even lower, and my blood pressure remained elevated. It was time to meet with the deliver doctor. We scheduled my induction date: February 4, 2025.

The Delivery

I arrived at the hospital, checked in, and waited for my room to be ready. At 3:15 p.m., it was my turn. The induction process began with medication, and as soon as I felt discomfort, my significant other asked if I was okay. Then, a knock at the door—both the delivery doctor and nurse rushed in, explaining, “We have to perform an emergency C-section. The induction medication is stressing your baby out.”

I quickly changed into a hospital gown and was wheeled into the operating room. Sitting on the table, I felt the sting of a needle in my spine to numb the pain, followed by another to administer the epidural. The procedure began. I turned to my boyfriend and whispered, “It feels like something is jumping on me.” Seconds later, I heard the cries of the most precious little being—my daughter.

The doctors lifted her over the tarp that separated my upper and lower body. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My princess was born weighing 2 lbs 7 oz. They cleaned her off, brought her to me for a quick moment of bonding, and then took her to the NICU.

Life in the NICU

That morning, once I was stable, I was wheeled into the NICU. My daughter lay in an incubator, connected to a feeding tube. She needed it because she couldn’t eat fully on her own yet. The incubator helped her regulate her body temperature, something she hadn’t learned to do on her own. Seeing her so small and fragile was the hardest thing I had ever witnessed.

Her first nurse was incredibly kind and loved her dearly. I remember the first time I held her—she curled right up against me, so content. It all felt surreal.

I met with therapists who explained my daughter’s developmental journey, doctors who gave me endless resources, and nurses who guided me through every step. Among them, one nurse formed a special bond with my daughter. It was heartwarming to see someone love and care for her as if she were their own.

In a way, I also formed a bond with that nurse. She offered advice, shared laughs, and supported me through my NICU journey. Her kindness made an impossible situation feel a little more bearable.

The Journey Home

Being a NICU mom is not for the weak. I spent every day with my daughter, because when I wasn’t there, I felt empty—like a part of me was missing. She had arrived six weeks early, completely reshaping our plans, but she was strong.

After 36 days of what felt like both a traumatic experience and a blessing in disguise, I finally got to bring my daughter home.

Through it all, I will forever be grateful for the NICU team at Banner and for my new profound best friend who listened to me through the ups and downs. My daughter and I left the NICU with an army of nurses who loved and supported us, and I know their impact will stay with us forever.