Did Not See That Coming
Monday, March 31, 2025.
Just another morning. I was driving my daughter to school, sipping coffee, going over the mental checklist of mom life. You know—lunches packed, homework turned in, field trip form signed. Everything felt normal… until it didn’t.
Out of nowhere, I started to feel off. Not “I didn’t get enough sleep” off—something deeper. I couldn’t catch my breath. My chest felt tight, like I had swallowed water wrong and it was stuck in a bubble behind my breastbone. It wasn’t pain, just this uncomfortable pressure that wouldn’t go away.
So I called the one person I always call when I feel weird—my mom.
“Hey,” I said. “I think I’m dying… or having the worst panic attack of my life.”
And in classic mom fashion, without skipping a beat, she said,
“Well, only the good die young—and you’re not that good. So tell me how you’re feeling.”
God love her.
But after I explained more—about the breathlessness, the pressure, the sense of doom—she didn’t joke anymore. She told me to hang up right then and call 911. And for once, I listened.
Good thing I did.
Because I wasn’t having a panic attack. I was having a heart attack.
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Healthy on Paper Doesn’t Mean Safe in Real Life
Let me say this louder for the people in the back: I am 41. I don’t smoke. I don’t have high blood pressure. My cholesterol’s decent. I chase three kids around and eat vegetables on purpose. By all accounts, I’m “healthy.” But heart disease doesn’t care.
There were no chest-clutching, movie-style dramatics. No shooting pain down my arm. Just a vague uneasiness, shortness of breath, and a feeling in my chest like something was stuck. Honestly, I almost powered through and dropped my daughter off anyway.
But I didn’t. And that’s why I’m still here.
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Why I’m Sharing This
Because women die from heart disease every day—many because they didn’t recognize the signs. Or worse, they were dismissed. By themselves. By others. By doctors.
We need to talk about it more. We need to normalize women listening to their bodies, trusting their intuition, and seeking care even when they’re “not sure” it’s serious.
Your body whispers before it screams. Don’t wait until it’s yelling.
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Today, I’m Just Grateful.
Grateful that I knew something was wrong.
Grateful that my mom answered the phone.
Grateful that I’m still here to write this.
If you take anything away from this post, let it be this:
Trust your gut. Take your health seriously. And never apologize for making noise when something doesn’t feel right.
Hug your people a little tighter tonight. I know I will.
