It was just four days after my son was born when I first noticed something wasn’t quite right. His breathing seemed… off. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what was wrong—it wasn’t gasping or wheezing, just something unusual, something that didn’t feel normal. As a new mom, I was already overwhelmed with emotions, but this was different. It was a gut feeling, a nagging sense that something wasn’t right.
I called his pediatrician, struggling to explain what I was noticing. “I don’t know how to describe it,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s just… weird. His breathing just doesn’t seem right.” The doctor listened patiently and asked me to bring him in. At the appointment, she examined him thoroughly, watched him breathe, and assured me he was fine. “You’re just in anxious mommy mode,” she said with a kind smile. “It’s normal to worry, but he’s okay.”
But I couldn’t shake the feeling. That night, as I watched his tiny chest rise and fall, the unease grew stronger. The next day, I made the decision to take him to the emergency room. I felt almost silly walking in, repeating the same words: “I don’t know what’s wrong, but his breathing just seems weird.” I braced myself for another dismissal, for someone to tell me I was overreacting.
But this time, it was different. The moment they checked his oxygen levels, the room shifted. His oxygen saturation was at 72—dangerously low. The nurses and doctors sprang into action, hooking him up to monitors and supplemental oxygen. My heart raced as I watched them work, my tiny baby surrounded by wires and machines. The doctor turned to me and said, “You were right to bring him in. His oxygen levels are critically low.”
The next two months were a blur. My son was sent home with supplemental oxygen, and I became his constant caregiver, watching over him day and night. It was exhausting and terrifying, but I was determined to do everything I could to help him recover. During one particularly emotional moment, I broke down in tears while talking to one of the nurses. “I feel like I failed him,” I sobbed. “I should have known sooner, I should have done more.”
The nurse stopped what he was doing, looked me straight in the eyes, and said something I’ll never forget: “Mom instinct is real, and I’ve seen it save a lot of kids’ lives. You trusted your gut, and because of that, your son is here with us today. Don’t ever doubt yourself.”
Those words stayed with me. They reminded me that even when I felt lost or unsure, there was a part of me—a mother’s intuition—that knew what my child needed. It wasn’t something I could explain or quantify, but it was powerful. And it had made all the difference.
Looking back, that experience taught me so much about trusting myself, even when others didn’t understand. It also showed me the incredible strength we have as parents, even in our most vulnerable moments. My son is thriving now, and while those two months were some of the hardest of my life, they also showed me the depth of a mother’s love and the power of listening to that quiet, persistent voice inside.