It’s been 4 years since our marriage. After 1.5 years of trying, hospital visits, ovulation induction, low AMH, sperm motility issues, failed IUIs, a missed miscarriage with D&C, and even hystero-laparoscopy… in February 2025, through IUI, I finally conceived.

From the beginning, the pregnancy was not easy. I had repeated spotting and bleeding and rushed to the hospital many times, but every scan reassured us that our baby was okay. At 12 weeks, I had a Shirodkar cerclage due to a short cervix. My double marker and anomaly scans were normal, which gave us hope.

However, Doppler scans showed high resistance in both uterine arteries, and I was started on BP medication. My blood pressure looked normal at home but always spiked in the hospital. I was also on Duphaston, weekly Proluton Depot injections, and several other medicines.
From the third month onward, I started having severe headaches, visual disturbances, and swelling in my face, hands, legs, and feet. Everyone around me said these were “normal pregnancy symptoms,” but deep inside I feared preeclampsia.

I felt my baby move early, around 14–16 weeks, because of my posterior placenta. Those tiny movements were my greatest comfort. But the swelling kept getting worse, and I even had painful swelling in my palms and legs.

On 23rd August 2025, after my routine injection, I suddenly felt chest discomfort. I ignored it at first, thinking it was gas. But later that evening I had severe crushing pain under my ribs, chest, and shoulders. When I checked my BP, it was 170. At the hospital it rose to 180/110 despite medication, and the baby’s heartbeat sounded faint. Doctors warned that they might need to terminate the pregnancy to save my life.

We rushed to my regular hospital. On the way, I kept vomiting. There they gave IV medications and magnesium sulfate. My BP stabilized and the scans initially looked okay. Doctors said they would try to prolong the pregnancy and gave steroid injections for the baby’s lungs. For a moment, we had hope.

But the next morning everything changed.

Umbilical artery Doppler showed absent end-diastolic flow and I was diagnosed with Stage II FGR. Within minutes the doctors prepared me for an emergency C-section at 27 weeks.

At 1:04 PM on 25th August 2025, my baby girl was born weighing 710 grams.

I was too scared to ask about her. My husband told me she was in the NICU. The next day, despite the pain from surgery, I went to see her. She was so tiny, surrounded by tubes and machines. My heart shattered.

Every day the doctors prepared us for the worst, but we still hoped.

Then came infection. Then NEC. Then sepsis.

I saw her open her eyes only once or twice. One day she looked at me as if saying, “Mom, I can’t fight anymore.”

She fought bravely for 20 days, but despite blood, plasma, and platelet transfusions, her tiny body couldn’t hold on. On 14th September 2025, our baby girl passed away.

I never got to hold her while she was alive. That thought will haunt me forever.

When they finally placed her in my arms after she was gone, I kissed her tiny forehead and said goodbye.

We travelled two hours holding her gently on the way to bury her. It was the most painful journey of my life — yet also the most precious, because she was finally in my arms.

She never felt my warmth while she was alive.

But in those final hours, she was cradled in my arms — and she will always live in my heart.