My Waters Broke at 18 Weeks. Doctors Advised Me to Terminate—I Refused

When my waters broke at 18 weeks and five days, I was told my daughter would not survive. I refused to accept that.

Initially, I didn't know that was what had happened. I thought maybe she had kicked me the wrong way because there was no pain when it happened, I just lost a small amount of fluid.

I later learned I had suffered a Preterm Prelabor Rupture of Membranes (PPROM). I'd never heard of it before. It's when the amniotic sac breaks before 37 weeks of pregnancy and before labor begins.

I didn't know this at the time, and it would be another two weeks before my waters fully ruptured. That felt like something out of a horror movie. Worse was still to come.

I was taken by ambulance to the ER. There was no sense of urgency when I got there, though. I was simply told: "We're sorry this happened. We're going to move you to labor and delivery, and you're going to deliver your baby."

I was told my daughter would not survive as viability for life was 24 weeks. I remember looking at her on the ultrasound and thinking this could be the last time I saw her alive. I could see her moving, see her legs kicking, and hear her heartbeat.

The doctors told me they were going to administer Pitocin. I knew from my previous delivery with my son that Pitocin speeds up labor. I told them no. I wanted to hold on to my daughter for as long as I could.

The next day, I was visited by someone from maternal-fetal medicine. They told me my daughter would not survive. Unless I was induced with Pitocin, there was a risk I could develop an infection and become seriously ill.

But my Christian faith told me otherwise. I told them, "God is going to hold me through this, and I'm going to hold on to my pregnancy for as long as I can."

I was admitted into the labor and delivery ward. After two weeks there one of the doctors admitted that, since my body had not naturally started contractions, I had a real chance at maintaining my pregnancy and carrying my little girl to viability.

It got me thinking. I did some research and discovered there had been cases of women who remained pregnant after their membranes had ruptured.

So I stayed in labor and delivery for the next 70 days. The doctors put me on bed rest. Despite all their warnings, I continued to defy the odds. Then it was finally time.

At 30 weeks, my placenta began abrupting. My daughter and I were both in danger. The doctors told me it was time to deliver. They explained that they would rather deliver a younger baby who was healthy than risk keeping her in the womb longer if her health was deteriorating, because she had reached a stage of development where the NICU could provide the support she would need.

Even then, I knew her chances of survival were low. During my research, I had read stories about moms who managed to stay pregnant after their waters broke, only to lose their babies shortly after birth or see them face severe medical complications.

Doctors told me she had only a 5 percent chance of being born alive. Once the membranes rupture and amniotic fluid is lost, a baby's lungs can struggle to develop properly because they rely on that fluid to grow and practice the breathing motions needed before birth.

My amniotic fluid levels fluctuated constantly. Sometimes my AFI, or amniotic fluid index, was almost nonexistent; other times there were small pockets of fluid, depending on how she was positioned. Because of that, I was repeatedly told her chances of survival were very low.

But my faith carried me through. I remember telling one of my doctors, "No matter what the outcome is, I have a daughter to love for all eternity. I'm praying it's on this side of heaven."

I named my daughter Sonora.

She spent the first 114 days of her life in the NICU. She was on respiratory support for the first 102 days. Sonora has faced numerous health challenges in her young life. Her lungs were not fully developed, as expected, and she was born with a congenital heart defect.

But she's getting help. Sonora eats through a G-tube at the moment and gets respiratory support at home. Since last September, we've had 11 hospitalizations and more than 170 medical appointments.

For a long time, Sonora couldn't crawl or even lift her belly off the floor. She's an incredibly spirited little girl, and you could see how determined she was to do more than her body would allow. But everything changed after she underwent heart surgery in July.

I pushed hard for her to have the surgery alongside her pulmonologist. Her cardiologist was hesitant to do the procedure due to her young age. Typically they will not perform these procedures until a child is around five years old. Eventually, after consulting with the pulmonologist and the team at American Family Children's Hospital, the cardiology team agreed to move forward.

The difference was almost immediate. About a week and a half after surgery, I filmed her climbing up a slide and showed him the video. He was stunned. He later told me she was only the second child so young to undergo the procedure in 15 years at our health system, and seeing the impact it had on her completely changed his perspective on how to approach similar cases in the future.

I'm raising my two children as a single mom while also running my own business. It's hard, but I'm learning to rise to the challenge in ways I never knew I would have to. As a mom you become whatever your children need you to be, and I think that comes purely from love.

I have to be at my best every day, both for Sonora and for my son, Finley. Thankfully, I'm not alone. My mom, dad, and sister all live nearby, and we've recently been approved for in-home nursing care. That means Sonora can be at home, receiving the therapies she needs while getting the chance to simply be a kid.

I've also found support in the online community of medical moms.

I wanted to be a mom more than anything in this life. God has blessed me with two incredible children, and I try to savor every moment I get with them.

Motherhood has looked different with Sonora, but you learn to adapt. I've always believed it's a parent's job to create the magic in their children's lives, and when you're faced with challenges and trauma, you learn how to find and create that magic anyway.

Sonora doesn't know any different. To her, this is simply life, and that perspective has taught me so much.

Sometimes everything we've been through feels like something out of a Lifetime movie. But I still trust that God is writing a story more beautiful than anything I could have imagined. I'm excited to see what that ending looks like and where this journey will take us.