In November 2025, we found out we were expecting. From the very beginning, we knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. Due to Type 1 diabetes, kidney damage, and high blood pressure, my fiancée was classified as high-risk from day one. We followed every instruction, attended every appointment, and did everything in our power to give our baby the best possible start.
Weekly check-ups became our new normal. Medications, monitoring, specialist visits — we embraced it all. But at 25 weeks, everything changed. My fiancée was admitted to the hospital with dangerously high blood pressure and severe swelling. I stayed by her side around the clock, leaving only when work demanded it.
The doctors began talking about early delivery. At 25 weeks, that word — delivery — was terrifying. We knew how small Mallori was. We knew what that meant for the NICU, for her lungs, for her future. To prepare, the doctors started a magnesium drip and steroid shots to help develop her lungs as quickly as possible.
Then came a moment of relief. After exhausting hours of tests and uncertainty, the doctors told us we didn't have to deliver — but we weren't going home either. We stayed in the hospital on close watch, taking it one ultrasound at a time.
By 27 weeks, Mallori had grown to a healthy weight for her age. We exhaled for the first time in weeks.
It didn't last.
At 29 weeks, blood results showed her mother's kidney function was deteriorating. Every day we waited made things worse — not just for Mallori, but for the woman carrying her. The doctors made the call: delivery within 24 hours.
On the night of May 24th, our daughter was born via emergency C-section.
Her mother came through with no complications. And Mallori? She came out strong. Bigger than anyone expected for 29 weeks. The room was filled with quiet amazement. She needed a breathing tube to help her along, but she was here — and she was fighting.
The very next day — Memorial Day — that tube came out. She moved to a breathing mask. One step forward, exactly when we needed it most.
We'll be in the NICU until August, when Mallori is finally ready to come home. Every day is a milestone. Every breath is a victory.
This is why Babyfolio exists. Not as a project, not as a token — but as a promise. Built for her. Built for her future. Built while she fights for it in real time.