Rylie, A First-Time Mother’s Journey
I was 35 when I became a mother for the first time.
Pregnancy had always felt like something I might never get to experience. Not because anything was wrong, but because life simply moved in other directions. There were career changes, delays, and the constant feeling of waiting for the right time. Then one day, the two pink lines appeared quietly on a test strip and everything shifted.
The early months were fairly typical. I experienced mild nausea, strange food aversions, and overwhelming exhaustion. Still, I felt deeply grateful, even on the days I could only manage crackers and apples.
We kept the news to ourselves for a while.
It happened suddenly. I was 24 weeks pregnant and working from home when I noticed a strange sensation in my left hand. It spread quickly to my face, and within minutes, I couldn’t form words properly. My arm felt weak. My vision became blurry.
I truly thought I was having a stroke. Fortunately, my husband was around and quickly rushed me to the hospital.
At the emergency department, my blood pressure was normal. The baby was doing well. I, however, could not move the left side of my body properly. After a series of tests, imaging, a number of consults with the brain doctors, I was reassured that it was a hemiplegic migraine.
I had never heard of it before.
The episode passed after a few hours, but the fear stayed with me. A few weeks later, it happened again. More investigations this time. Different doctors. I was given the reassurance and told to take it easy. Then came the recurring migraines: sharp, pulsating, and completely unpredictable.
Every time I went in, the answer was the same. “The baby is fine. These things can happen during pregnancy.” I understood that there was no specific treatment protocol. But knowing that did not make the experience less terrifying. When your body stops behaving the way it should, and you are responsible for a life inside you, the fear becomes something you quietly carry every day.
As the weeks passed, the migraines became less intense. They never completely went away, but I felt steadier. I continued with all my antenatal appointments. I walked when I could, ate as well as possible, and made rest a priority.
Due to a few minor concerns with the baby’s positioning, my doctor suggested a planned cesarean at 39 weeks. I did not have a strong preference for how I delivered. I only wanted it to be safe. After months of uncertainty, a little planning felt like relief.
The morning of the c-section felt surreal. Everything was calm, quiet and somewhat predictable. The medical staff all appeared to know what they were doing. I remember the stillness in the theatre. Then, within the hour, I heard the first cry.
My baby’s cry.
He was perfect.
I did not cry right away. I just stared, memorizing everything. The beeping of machines faded away as I watched him being placed on my chest. It was beautiful.
Recovery was not easy, but it was smoother than I expected. The physical pain was manageable. The emotional shift was bigger. Becoming a mother rewrote my identity in real time.
I often think back to that second trimester. The helplessness. The anxiety. How unseen I felt when doctors could only offer reassurance but no solutions. I know hemiplegic migraines are rare. I know most people don’t talk about them. But they should. We need more space for the invisible fears that mothers carry.
This is not a dramatic birth story. There were no sirens or sudden emergencies. But there was a quiet fear that followed me for months. It did not scream, but it stole my sleep.
And yet, I am here.
Holding a boy who fits perfectly in my arms. Learning what it means to be his mother. Grateful.
Maybe that is the story after all.
A little fear.
A lot of faith.
And a gentle birth.