I am Rheannon. I’m a mum to three beautiful girls, a student doctor, a wife, and a very proud advocate for preterm birth. My journey into this space wasn’t planned.
At eighteen, I was unexpectedly thrown into the world of pregnancy complications, loss, and the neonatal intensive care unit. Those experiences not only shaped me as a mother but also lit a fire in me to pursue healthcare as a career.
They gave me my purpose: to walk beside women in the most vulnerable moments of their lives, the way others once did for me.
My story began at eighteen. Just months after finishing high school, I found myself pregnant. The pregnancy gave me purpose, though I had little understanding of antenatal care. I saw a GP at eight weeks, had some tests, and assumed I’d be followed up.
At 22 weeks and three days, I started bleeding heavily while shopping for maternity clothes. I rushed quickly to the hospital where I was told I was in labour, I would be delivering my baby soon, and she not “compatible with life” due to her early gestation. I laboured through the night, supported by one of the most compassionate midwives I’ve ever known.
The next morning, I delivered my daughter Lilly. She was placed on my chest, her little body moving, and she lived for only moments before taking her last breaths in my arms, surrounded by family. The hospital gave me precious time with her allowing us to baptised her, take photographs, and supporting me.
The weeks that followed were agonising. My milk came in, I planned a funeral and visited the cemetery daily until her due date. As painful as it was, I found so much comfort in the support I was given by the healthcare workers and the time they gave me to acknowledge my baby – as Lilly. It validated me being a mother despite my arms and body being empty from holding my baby.
Eighteen months later, I was pregnant again. This time I was referred early and monitored closely. At 25 weeks, abdominal pain revealed my cervix was just 0.7cm. I was given steroids, medication, and a NICU tour.
The fear was suffocating. Day after day, I held on sitting in a hospital bed, and at 33 weeks I was induced due to infection. My second daughter was born prematurely, fragile and ventilated, and spent over five weeks in hospital. Bringing her home was joyous, but the challenges didn’t end there. Her ongoing health issues are a daily reminder of how profoundly early birth shapes the future.
By the time I was pregnant with my third daughter in 2022, I was armed with every intervention: cerclage, progesterone, constant monitoring. Yet no treatment eased the fear. My body carried memories of trauma. Every cramp felt like labour, every twinge a threat. I spent hours reading journal articles, desperately searching for reassurance. Anxiety consumed me, and despite meditation and hypnobirthing, I constantly doubted my body.
I was induced at 37 weeks. My daughter arrived safely, but my birth ended with a severe postpartum haemorrhage, and it felt like yet another betrayal of my body. I had struggled to carry and birth my babies, and now my own safety was in jeopardy.
Through all of this, the grief of loss, the trauma of prematurity, the fear and the physical toll, the shining light has always been my daughters. They are the reason I endured. And alongside them, the healthcare workers who walked beside me, who gave me space to grieve, who saw me, and who never made me feel like I was just another patient.
It has been eleven years since I lost Lilly, and nine since my second daughter was born prematurely, yet I still remember every single health professional who cared for me. Every midwife, doctor, student, and sonographer who showed compassion left a mark on my life. That care did not erase the trauma, but it softened it. It allowed healing to begin.
These experiences shaped me in ways I could never have anticipated. Leaving hospital with my second daughter, I knew I wanted to give back. I wanted to dedicate my life to helping women the way I had been helped.
Today, I am in my final rotation of medical school, about to graduate, and working toward becoming an obstetrician. I am also the Consumer Representative for Townsville University Hospital in the Every Week Counts Preterm Birth Prevention Collaborative.
In this role, I speak for families who live through what I lived through. I bring my story, and the stories of countless women like me, into the spaces where change is made. Preventing preterm and early term birth matters to me because it isn’t just about survival; it’s about lifelong impacts, trauma, and the ripple effect on families. If I can play even the smallest role in reducing that, then Lilly’s short life has left a legacy far greater than I ever imagined.
My journey has been one of loss, love, fear, resilience, and hope. It’s ongoing, and it’s far from perfect. But I carry with me the conviction that stories like mine matter and that by sharing them, we can bridge the gap between consumers and clinicians, ensuring that every woman feels heard, validated, and supported through one of the most vulnerable times in her life.
