When Pregnancy Turns Into an Emergency

I never imagined my life would be reduced to hospital hallways, sterile waiting rooms, and the relentless hum of machines keeping my baby alive. Yet this is where our story begins.

On January 31st, my world shattered without warning. I was only 25 weeks pregnant when my water suddenly broke. There was no pain—only instant terror. I knew, deep in my bones, that something was terribly wrong.

My husband rushed me to KK Women’s and Children’s Hospital in Singapore, both of us silent, gripping fear instead of words. Our baby was not ready. And neither were we.

Doctors admitted me immediately. From that moment on, life became a fragile countdown measured in hours rather than weeks.

One Week of Holding On

Every movement was restricted. Every heartbeat was monitored. Doctors did everything they could to delay labor and give my baby more time inside me.

Each hour felt like a victory.
Each day felt like a miracle.

I lay still in my hospital bed, barely daring to breathe too deeply. I whispered constantly to my unborn son—begging him to stay strong, to hold on just a little longer. I promised him love, safety, and a future I prayed he would one day see.

For seven precious days, we held on.

But my body could not fight anymore.

The Moment Everything Changed

A severe infection developed suddenly. Doctors entered the room with expressions no parent ever wants to see. Waiting longer, they said, would put both my life and my baby’s life in danger.

There was no choice.

An emergency C-section had to be performed immediately.

Fear overwhelmed me. I had imagined holding my baby after birth, hearing his cry, taking him home. Instead, I was being rushed into surgery, knowing my son would enter the world already fighting for survival.

Born Too Soon, Too Small

On February 7th at 2:37 PM, Baby Ryan was born.

He weighed just 740 grams.

He was impossibly small—his skin translucent, his body fragile, his lungs struggling to function. There was no cry, no warm embrace, no moment of joy.

Doctors rushed him straight to the NICU, where machines took over the work my body could no longer do.

In that moment, I learned what true helplessness feels like.

Life Inside the NICU

Ryan remains in the NICU under constant, round-the-clock care. Machines help him breathe. Others regulate his temperature, monitor his heart, and track every vital sign.

As a mother, the pain is indescribable.

I cannot hold him.
I cannot kiss his forehead.
I cannot feel his tiny fingers wrap around mine.

Instead, I sit beside the incubator, separated by plastic walls, wires, and tubes—watching my son fight for his life.

Every beep makes my heart race.
Every alarm steals my breath.

I whisper prayers, my voice shaking, asking God to protect him. I tell Ryan how deeply he is loved. I beg him to keep fighting.

A Family Far From Home

We came to Singapore from India, hoping to build a better future for our family. My husband works tirelessly as the sole breadwinner under an Employment Pass. I stay home to care for our eight-year-old daughter.

We lived modestly. We believed we were doing everything right.

We never imagined this.

As foreigners, the reality is crushing. The costs of the emergency surgery and prolonged NICU care are far beyond our means. The hospital has informed us that expenses could exceed $500,000.

Hearing that number felt unreal.

Our savings are nowhere near enough. We have no income now. Bills continue to rise—while our baby’s fight continues.

Asking for Help Is Never Easy

The team at Give.Asia advised us to fundraise in stages, beginning with $89,000 and slowly working toward the full amount. Even writing those numbers feels heavy.

I never imagined asking strangers for help.

But motherhood changes everything.

Pride disappears. Fear fades. Only love remains.

All that matters is my son.

Baby Ryan Deserves a Chance

Ryan deserves the chance to grow.
To breathe without machines.
To laugh, play, and live the life he was almost denied.

If you are reading this, please know that every contribution—no matter how small—matters. Your kindness helps keep my baby alive. Your support gives him the fighting chance he needs.

If you cannot help financially, please share Ryan’s story. Let his tiny voice reach someone who can.

Strength Measured in Grams, Hope Measured in Heartbeats

Every day in the NICU is a battle. And every day, Ryan shows us what true strength looks like.

A stable heartbeat.
A slight movement.
A breath taken with less support.

Each tiny milestone feels like a miracle.

Ryan’s fight is not just about survival—it is a testament to courage, love, and the resilience of the human spirit.

As his mother, I have learned to live one moment at a time—celebrating fragile victories, holding hope and fear side by side.

We pray for the day Ryan will leave the NICU, breathe on his own, and experience life fully.

Until then, we will be here.

Watching.
Hoping.
Loving.
Fighting with him.

Baby Ryan is not just a miracle in progress. He is proof that even the smallest lives can carry the greatest strength.