Rough Pregnancy Journey
“I was in what I felt was the absolute lowest point of my life when I found out I was pregnant on June 15, 2018. I was living in a state far from family, about eight months out of leaving a very toxic relationship. I was already the mom of two beautiful boys, working three jobs, and navigating the early stages of a stressful custody battle. Unprepared doesn’t even begin to cover how I felt. I was genuinely terrified.
Throughout my pregnancy, I struggled deeply with anxiety and depression. Years of toxicity had taken their toll, and I was trying to navigate immense life changes as quickly as possible, all for the sake of giving my two boys the best life I could. At my very lowest point, I convinced myself that maybe my kids didn’t need me after all—and that I would be better off gone. The weight of isolation and fear was crushing, even when I technically wasn’t alone.
Being my third pregnancy, I had hoped things would feel easier. But I quickly learned that could not have been further from the truth. Early on, I had to have blood drawn every week because my levels weren’t where they needed to be. My blood sugar and blood pressure were unstable and constantly monitored.
Finally, things seemed to settle down a little. I discovered I was having another perfect little boy, and my depression lifted. Life felt brighter. My boys, Mayson (5) and Lochlan (3), were overjoyed, and for a brief moment, it felt like life was finally aligning. But then another storm hit.
On November 18, 2018, I experienced excruciating pain so intense I couldn’t even speak. I was rushed to the hospital and ended up staying for almost two weeks. I was diagnosed with a severe kidney infection that had progressed to near-sepsis, running a fever of 101–104°F for five consecutive days. At 26–27 weeks pregnant, I was warned I was at a ‘great risk of losing the baby’ due to my high core temperature and the stress on my body. Over the next 11 weeks, I was in and out of the hospital multiple times, undergoing frequent non-stress tests due to decreased fetal movement and abnormal heart accelerations.
Emergency Delivery
On March 12, 2019, I went in for a routine 38-week checkup and last pre-scheduled ultrasound before my planned C-section on March 20. During the ultrasound, my doctor suddenly went silent. After what felt like an eternity, she told me I needed to head straight to the hospital—my baby was coming that very night. My amniotic fluid had dropped dangerously low, and my little boy was in minor distress.
Rowen Kade was born via C-section at exactly 7 p.m. that evening. This was my second C-section, but the first one I experienced awake—and it was incredible. The moment they lifted him from my body, he cried instantly. Once cleaned, weighed, and bundled, he was placed against my face, and I whispered, ‘Hey Rowen. It’s okay. I’m your momma. I love you baby.’ Instantly, he calmed. That moment alone made every struggle during my pregnancy worth it a thousand times over.
A few hours later, during his first bath, the nurses noticed a sacral dimple at the base of his spine. They scheduled an ultrasound for the next morning to check for potential spinal issues, such as Spina Bifida, which thankfully came back clear.
Gut Feelings
Rowen came home on March 15, weighing 6lbs 12oz. His weight dropped quickly, prompting frequent doctor visits. Exclusively breastfed, he refused my left side due to discomfort, leaving me feeding him only from the right—a challenge I’ve maintained for ten months now.
His reflux symptoms worsened, and multiple pediatrician visits led to repeated misdiagnoses and increased medication that provided no relief. He began exhibiting severe discomfort, head grabbing, constant vomiting, and stiffness in his neck. Doctors repeatedly told me I was ‘just a stressed mom’ or needed sleep, but something deep inside me insisted something was very wrong.
At 2½ months old, Rowen started physical therapy for neck stiffness, but it made no difference. The pain persisted, with new symptoms like extreme swelling in his soft spot on the top of his head. Repeated ER visits offered no answers.
Chiari Malformation Diagnosis
Finally, at seven months, I refused to give up. I took Rowen to a children’s hospital six hours away, checked into a hotel, and brought him in the next day. For the first time, doctors truly listened. He immediately underwent an MRI, and on December 3, 2019, we got the answers we had been searching for.
Rowen was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation Type 1 with Type 2 characteristics, along with a low-laying conus medullaris in his spine. The neurologist explained that, though he was born with it, most children don’t receive a diagnosis until adulthood—if at all. Rowen was extremely lucky. Chiari occurs when the skull is too small or misshapen, forcing brain tissue downward into the spinal canal, leading to immense pain and numerous symptoms such as neck pain, balance problems, difficulty swallowing, vomiting, sleep apnea, and more.
There is no cure, but a surgery called Chiari Decompression can relieve symptoms. Rowen’s surgery was scheduled for January 7, 2020. Hearing his diagnosis, I felt proud of myself for trusting my instincts and pushing for answers.
Brain Surgery
Surgery day was terrifying. My nine-month-old was going into brain surgery. After four long hours, the surgeon explained that the operation couldn’t be fully completed due to excessive bleeding, but what was done already showed remarkable improvement.
Within two weeks, Rowen began sitting up straight, sticking his tongue out, giving kisses, crawling, laughing, waving, and clapping. His older brothers were amazed, celebrating every milestone: ‘Mom, LOOK! Rowen can sit up like a real human now!’ Their joy brought tears to my eyes. These small achievements were monumental, reflecting how much pain he had endured and how far he had come.
Though Rowen’s journey is just beginning, seeing him thriving despite his stitched-up neck fills me with relief, happiness, and gratitude. This story isn’t just about one baby’s battle—it’s a reminder for all parents: trust your instincts. Advocate for your child, document everything, and never be afraid to push for answers. Had we simply accepted ‘he is healthy,’ Rowen would have continued living in pain. You are your child’s voice, and they deserve to be heard.”
