"this story isn’t rare. That’s the terrifying part."

I was celebrating a new chapter in my life—glammed up, full of joy, surrounded by love. But by the end of that same day, I was in a hospital bed being induced a month early due to dangerously rising blood pressure.

Days after delivery, I began experiencing the worst headache of my life. Over-the-counter medications didn’t help, and light and sound only made it worse. I stayed home, unknowingly in danger, trying natural remedies to get through it. Then one night, I woke up from sleep and felt my heartbeat slowing down. That moment changed everything. I took my blood pressure—it was 180/110. I was at risk of organ failure, stroke, or worse. I rushed to the ER and was hospitalized for days.

What haunts me most is that I wasn’t even thinking of myself—I was thinking of my newborn. I couldn’t hold her, nurse her, or comfort her. All I could do was wonder: what if I didn’t make it? What would life be like for my daughters without me?

Thankfully, my baby was cared for while I was in the hospital—but what about the mothers who don’t have that? What happens when they have no support, no warning, no tools? The truth is, this story isn’t rare. That’s the problem. Too many Black and Brown mothers are sent home with no plan, no equipment, and no follow-up—just the hope that nothing will go wrong. But things do go wrong—and when they do, it happens fast.

That’s why The Next 9 exists.

Too many mothers don’t get a second chance. No mother should have to choose between access and survival. No one should feel this alone, this afraid, or this unprepared. Survival shouldn’t depend on luck or privilege—it should be the standard for every mother.