In 2016, I became pregnant with my first child, unknowingly carrying a high-risk pregnancy until 29 weeks, when membranes ruptured early due to cervical insufficiency. In other words, my water broke because my cervix, the lower portion of the uterus that houses the baby, was not strong enough to hold the pressure of the growing baby. I was immediately admitted to hospital, spending the next 2 weeks delaying labor on the Antenatal unit. This time was filled with lots of emotion and stress for me and my husband. I was no longer the nurse. I was the patient and with this unexpectedly came a different load I had to carry. Despite our efforts, our daughter was born prematurely at 32 weeks. No words can describe the pain and emptiness a mother feels after delivering her first baby and having her immediately taken away. I wasn’t able to feel the warmth of my miracle that I grew on my chest or provide her first source of nutrition. I laid on the delivery table, watching my baby taken away by the NICU nurses in an isolette, while my doctor worked to repair my 2nd degree tear. My daughter spent the next 2 months in the NICU, fortunately being classified as a “grower and feeder” and not requiring prolonged oxygen outside of the initial 48 hours of CPAP. Her most serious issues involved apnea (periods of not breathing) and bradycardia (low heart rate) caused by reflux, which is a fairly common issue of premature babies. My routine for 60 days consisted of waking, eating breakfast, packing lunch, and spending the day at the hospital, only leaving to meet my husband at home and return in the evening for a few more hours. After my baby was finally discharged from the hospital after 2 long months, we returned a few days later for a bilateral inguinal hernia repair, spending the night on the Pediatric floor for observation. As a first-time mom, the amount of grief and worrying experienced throughout this journey was astronomical. The first year of my daughter’s life was difficult as we faced issues with not only reflux and apnea, but breastfeeding difficulties. Even though I was able to make breastmilk at 32 weeks, my milk supply was far less than what I would have had with a full term baby. For 10.5 months, I pumped every 3 hours, 24 hours a day, to provide what I believed was best. Even after she was sleeping through the night, I continued pumping every 3 hours, slowly being unable to keep up with her demands. Clouded by postpartum depression and anxiety, I was unable to see how unhealthy that time period was for my mental health. I placed so much pressure on myself to provide nothing but the best for my baby, all while slowly losing myself in the process and being unaware of my deteriorating mental health. The following pregnancies proved to be no easier. Our second pregnancy consisted of weekly doctor’s appointments, cervical checks, and progesterone injections, and an emergent cerclage placement at 23 weeks to keep the cervix closed. Per recommendations, I opted to take a leave of absence from work to ensure I carried as close to full-term as possible. My husband and I relied heavily on our faith to get us through the next 12 weeks. I received injections to mature our baby’s lungs due to the results of a test predicting the risk of pre-term delivery. The plan to remove the cerclage at 36 weeks was changed when a follow up appointment with my OB at 35 weeks revealed my cervix was dilating with the cerclage in place, placing me at risk of hemorrhaging. I was immediately sent to the hospital to have the cerclage removed. Due to my cervix dilating after the cerclage removal, I was admitted for a 4-day observation period and given medications to delay the onset of labor. I was eventually discharged, returning 4 days later in labor. Born at 36 weeks, our second daughter spent a brief period in the NICU to rule out infection after failing the car seat study multiple times. Again, I found myself engulfed in the same routine as with my first baby. Over the next few months, postpartum depression and anxiety hit hard. I experienced difficulty bonding with my baby and suicidal ideation. I was fortunate to have a support system that encouraged me to reach out for help. In 2020, our second born turned one. For the sake of my health and our family, we made the tough decision to not have any more children, however God had a bigger plan and a week later we found out I was pregnant. We miscarried our 3rd child after 8 weeks, leaving us in a place of confusion and hurt. We learned to trust in HIS plan and opened our hearts to whatever He had in store for us. God blessed us with our rainbow baby in Fall 2020. This pregnancy was again filled with weekly doctor’s appointments, cervical checks, progesterone supplementation, and a cerclage placement at 16 weeks. Fortunately, I was able to work throughout this pregnancy, leaving me to experience as much of a “normal” pregnancy as possible. However, what should have been a routine removal of the cerclage at 36 weeks led to an OR visit, ruptured membranes, and 36 hours of Pitocin (a medication used to stimulate contractions of the uterus). The risk of infection increased with each passing hour, so every effort was made to stimulate labor. Exhausted and weary, I agreed to medication during the last stretch of labor, resulting in an undesirable birthing experience. I have very few memories of my son being born. I remember wanting to hold him close on my bare skin and experience the joy of providing his first hour of nutrition, but the exhaustion and fogginess from the medication left me with no energy or desire to do either. I held my son for a few minutes before returning him to the nurses. To this day, the hurt and regret of this birthing experience still torment me. Our son, born at 36 weeks, spent a brief period in NICU due to hypoglycemia (low blood sugar levels), requiring an IV infusion and close monitoring of sugar levels.” These life experiences gave me a different perspective of our healthcare system: the perspective of a parent and a patient. I can appreciate the stress, emotions, and inability to think clearly when it is me or my loved one serving as the patient. Looking back, I wish we would have had an advocate available to help provide education, support, and fight for my family’s wishes and needs. I wish we would have had someone available to provide an outside perspective and be our voice while my husband and I could focus on our family, rather than have to balance all aspects ourselves. I wish I would have had someone available to support my mental health and assist me with beginning a healing journey sooner than when I embarked on one by myself. Some of our experiences may have been more positive and left less of a scar if we would have had someone walking that journey with us. I am thankful to have the opportunity to be that voice, outside perspective, source of education, and support system for others experiencing vulnerable moments within our healthcare system. I am thankful to have the opportunity to help you ARISE!