Hadley's Story
PPROM at 33 weeks.
December 2020. COVID restrictions.
Saying goodbye at the double doors to 3-1200.
Days turning into weeks inside one hospital room.
Hallway coffee walks. Quiet tears.
A tiny, strong baby arriving earlier than planned.
If this feels familiar, you’re not alone.
Hi! My name is Hadley, and I lived on the antepartum unit at Strong Memorial Hospital for 28 days.
On January 25th, 2026, at exactly 30 weeks pregnant, I started bleeding right after we had finished dinner. We drove in a brutal blizzard to Rochester General Hospital, where I was monitored, diagnosed with severe preeclampsia, and prepped for an emergency C-Section. All of a sudden, I had two different nurses putting in IV's while a resident was going through paperwork with me and getting my consent. I signed the waivers, IV magnesium was administered, and one of the nurses gave me a heads up that I was not going to feel very well in a few minutes.
They immediately started loading me up with ice packs and, sure enough, the magnesium made me feel like I had the flu. Ultimately, they were able to stabilize me enough to transport me to Strong Memorial Hospital via ambulance, where I was under continuous monitoring overnight. What I remember most after that is how awful being on IV magnesium was, and that I got absolutely no sleep for 36 hours.
In the morning, after a full night on monitors and an ultrasound in the morning, I received the news that I would be admitted until I delivered. I had experienced what we suspected to be a a partial placental abruption (it was small enough that it couldn't be seen on an ultrasound), and my preeclampsia symptoms were too severe to risk me leaving. That was the first time during this experience that I let myself cry.
I settled into my new reality pretty quickly. I moved into 3.1200 as soon as a room was available. My motto was "the only way out is through", which I repeated to myself several times every day. I was started on blood pressure medications, had my vitals and baby checked every four hours, and had two Fetal Non-Stress Tests a day. I structured my days around my vital checks, NST's, and the doctor's rounds. I would go on walks, crochet, watch Netflix, read, answer business emails (being a business owner during this was especially tough). Anything to keep me occupied.
The NST's were my least favorite part of my day. Every time a nurse came in with juice to get baby moving, my heart would drop. The 20+ minute wait to know if my baby was okay felt like an eternity. I always asked if everything was okay after, and I was always reassured.
Two weeks into our stay, our baby was diagnosed with Fetal Growth Restriction, weighing in at the 2nd percentile. This is when the fear really set in. Would baby be okay? My husband and I started to worry that maybe her being in my body was doing more harm than good, which is such a heartbreaking thought. No one wants their baby to come before they're ready for the world. Still, we trusted the OB team and followed their lead.
My case was further complicated by my history of Crohn's Disease. Early into my stay, we had to establish a plan with the high risk OB team, the Strong colorectal team, and my own colorectal surgeon, who operated out of RGH. Given my surgical and medical history, a C-Section was going to be safest for both me and baby, but still posed risks that were heightened because of my disease AND preeclampsia. I was going to need a colorectal team on standby in case anything went awry.
The only way out is through.
After 26 days and 10 different roommates (the last of which I'm so grateful to have bonded with), we decided to move forward with my C-Section a few days sooner than planned. I was experiencing blurry vision, a telltale sign of preeclampsia rearing it's ugly head. I had an MRI of my head that night, and then headed to labor and delivery to start IV magnesium and continuous monitoring until I was to head to surgery.
Our sweet girl, Edith, was born at 33 weeks and 5 days, 3 lbs and 13 oz. I will never forget the first sound she made - a single cough. I have never been so relieved. She would then spend the next several weeks in the NICU, and I would be discharged after exactly 28 days in 3.1200.
Anyone living on 3.1200 will tell you this isn't the way they wanted their pregnancy to go, but how lucky are we to have the resources and care that we have at Strong? I have never received such compassionate and detailed care. I will never forget the nurses who listened to my story, kept me going, cheered me on, and validated every concern. And I will certainly never forget the surgeon who held my hand and showed me pictures of my baby girl while I was being stitched up during my C-Section. You don't walk the halls here as just another patient. So even if this is how it goes for you, just know that you are not alone.
