For 5 years, my husband and I suffered from recurrent pregnancy losses followed by unexplained secondary infertility. We underwent procedures, and surgeries, we spent every extra dime we had on multiple rounds each of IUI, IVF, and embryo transfers hoping to have a family together. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune blood disorder that put me at a higher risk of miscarriage and stillbirth, and was deemed an IVF implantation failure. After years of heartbreak, and just turning 39, the fertility specialist sat me down to explain that it was time to move onto surrogacy or adoption. Reconciling that my journey had come to that point was a tough pill to swallow. Heather, my very best friend of 22 years, has seen every version of me, even the most broken, and has loved me through every failed treatment and every pregnancy loss. She is a mother of two amazing boys, and wanted me to be able to experience the beauty of motherhood too. She selflessly offered to carry a baby for me. Both of our families spent months going through medical, mental health, and legal gestational carrier clearances, and finally were cleared for transfer! Right before she began her medication regimen, to our complete shock and awe, we found out that I spontaneously conceived. I immediately called my Obstetrician, who had been with me through every pregnancy and loss. She said to be cautiously optimistic; because I was very early, with a terrible track record, we were advised to keep moving forward with Heather, who had made it to the finish line twice before. On her first and only frozen embryo transfer, it worked! Even though my heart’s greatest desire was coming true, grief and fear has a way of stealing the bliss out of something you have prayed for so fervently. I had many sleepless nights absolutely terrified that the rug would get ripped out from under us at any moment, as it always has. Most people announce their pregnancies at the end of the first trimester, but I know all too well that every seemingly small pregnancy milestone was a giant hurdle for us. Every time a lab result came back or we stepped into an exam room, I held my breath: praying there would still be a heartbeat, and that our babies would be healthy. The babies were 7 weeks apart gestationally but my husband and I were anxiously waiting to announce either pregnancy, for the 24 week mega milestone: age of viability. However, at 24 weeks, I developed a severe thunderclap headache, one that was different than any headache I’d ever experienced, and my blood pressure was dangerously elevated. Again I called upon my Obstetrician who sent me to Presbyterian Medical Center due to my gestational age. Upon arrival, I was scanned by MFM and was told that on top of her only having a two vessel cord, she had increased pressure, and was considered Intrauterine growth restricted. While I was suffering through an IV bolus of magnesium, the NICU team came up to meet with us. We were given very transparent information on the possibility of grim outcomes for our baby. Although we were on borrowed time, I was determined to make it as far as we could so she had more time to grow. During my two week hospital stay, my blood pressures were harder to control, and our baby’s umbilical cord had absent end diastolic flow. At exactly 26 weeks, we had to deliver via c-section, to avoid putting more stress on our already fragile baby. On March 9, 2025, our miracle baby, Scarlett, made her debut into the world. Weighing 595 grams, or 1 pound 5 ounces, and measured 12 inches long. She was immediately whisked away to be intubated and stabilized by the NICU team. Even though we were told on several occasions to be prepared that she may not make it home, she spent 180 days in Hemby’s Neonatal Intensive Care Nursery where their providers, respiratory therapists, and her incredible primary nurses worked tirelessly for 6 months to help her become healthy enough to come home. She was transferred to Levine’s Children’s hospital briefly for a heart procedure to close a large PDA and transferred back to Hemby after 4 days once she was stable enough for transfer. She’s had 5 blood transfusions, she has retinopathy of prematurity, reflux, bronchopulmonary dysplasia and required oxygen therapy for 10 months. We knew that her success was dependent on us being present, involved, and advocating for her. Our family, work family, and friends rallied around Scarlett to make sure she knew that she was loved, prayed for, and that we were there, learning and fighting right beside her. Like the other precious NICU families we befriended and trauma bonded with, you learn to just show up, every day, even when you go back to work, even when you’re exhausted, even when you’re emotionally drained yourself, because they still need you. Although she was tiny, she is mighty; the NICU called her feisty, and I think it’s that very character trait that helped her to defy every odd stacked against her. She continues to amaze us with her resilience, she has a vibrant personality, she adores her family, and is obsessed with her little sister, Sloane. Scarlett is truly remarkable, and our lives have been forever changed for the better because of our micropreemie miracle.