Rhya’s Story

15 and a sophomore in high school, I found out I was pregnant with my first child. Scared and afraid, and just a kid myself.

I chose to keep her, for better or for worse; she was loved and wanted beyond words before she ever breathed. From that first positive test, I knew she was my heart. The pregnancy was a whirlwind of stays in L&D and praying I’d just stop puking for one day (futile). She was born July 11th, 2011, after a week of early labor and an induction followed by an incredibly violent birth. Perfect in every way, 10 long fingers, 10 beautiful toes, and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Leaving the hospital was like a dream; she was beautiful, and she was here.

4 days. My Athena Marie lived for 4 days. I woke up 3 days before my 16th birthday and she was gone. SIDS. A sea of people telling me, “She’s in a better place” and “this was not your fault” seemed so hollow. What better place was there for her than my arms? I was sleeping and she was leaving this life. How could I not blame myself? We buried her 2 blocks from my home, a tiny plot on a hill that catches the first rays of dawn. Perfect like she was.

15 years of aching, hurting, missing her with a depth that simply can’t be described before deciding to try. The same appointment we remove my IUD I also conduct my annual pap smear.

Abnormal.

Queue the panic attacks, tears, anxiety, sleepless nights while we wait for the results of the colposcopy. I had grade 3 abnormal cells all over my cervix. HPV negative and yet somehow one step down from cervical cancer. We scheduled the LEEP with all the assurances that “they spare as much as possible to leave you the best chances of fertility” and still terrified I’d just keep getting bad news, they’d just have to keep taking more until none was left and I’d never see another pregnancy.

The LEEP was successful, with clean margins. 10 months of trying, 10 months of pregnancy tests and hoping on every late period, 10 months of slowly losing hope and swallowing resignation.

No positive test in sight we pull into a Wal-Mart parking lot, and my wonderful boyfriend spots someone selling kittens from the trunk of their car. “Hey babe, kittens! Wanna stop?”

We bring home an 8-week-old calico girl and name her Leia, assuming there wouldn’t be a baby any time soon.

2 weeks later, the same day my stepdad, the man who raised me and built me, passed in his sleep, we get our first positive test. The faintest of lines, practically an evap line. Something in me just knew it was real. 3 positive pregnancy tests later, most definitely pregnant.

15 years. Half my lifetime. Finally, we are expecting our rainbow to make its earthside appearance, a baby boy. Another July baby. Another gift from his sister and his maternal grandfathers.

Our Nico Jalen, due July 24th, 2026.

To every mom who has known loss, to every bereaved parent who thinks “this is just how I breathe now”, surviving is the hardest thing you will do. It is also the best thing you will do. Every day I breathe for her, and now her brother too. There will never be a day I live where BOTH my babies aren’t loved with every fiber of my being. I will hold her brother just a little tighter for having loved her first. She was a gift of love, strength, and endurance.

As long as I live, so does she. Your babies don’t leave you, mama. You were their first home.