The PPROM Foundation

The PPROM Foundation The PPROM Foundation is a registered public charity 501(c)(3) that provides resources and support for those experiencing PPROM in their pregnancy and beyond.

Preterm Premature Rupture of Membranes or pProm is the rupture of the amniotic sac in pregnancy prior to labor beginning and before 37 weeks gestation. This pregnancy condition occurs in 30-40% of preterm births and is the leading identifiable cause of preterm deliveries (Medscape, 2012). Estimated to occur in roughly 150,000 pregnancies each year, pProm is a complication that carries significant

risks to the mother and her child. Immediate delivery, delayed interval delivery (twin gestation), and expectant management are the options available to those given the diagnosis of pProm; each with their own risks and benefits. The PPROM Foundation aims to provide resources and support for those diagnosed with pProm. We provide guidance and information on Expectant Management, or the continuation of pregnancy in the event of a potential adverse outcome for the mother and/or her child. We hope that those given this diagnosis will have the benefit of the most informed decisions, whatever they may be, and we will support the families in their pProm journey and beyond.

You never forget your date.
03/15/2026

You never forget your date.

10/16/2025

Who are you honoring tonight?

“There’s a quiet kind of grief that comes from not knowing where you belong anymore.”It’s a strange feeling…to be a fort...
10/14/2025

“There’s a quiet kind of grief that comes from not knowing where you belong anymore.”
It’s a strange feeling…to be a forty-something woman who wanted to be a mom, but two losses later has no living children to show for it. In social circles, I often feel caught between worlds.
The childfree-by-choice crowd doesn’t quite fit, because this wasn’t a choice.
The loss community can be hard too. Many have living children, and their stories, though full of grief, still have a continuation mine doesn’t.
Most couples our age are deep in family life, with kids’ schedules dictating their calendars. Holidays, birthdays, even casual gatherings can feel like reminders that we’re on the outside looking in.
It’s not pity we want - it’s connection. A sense of belonging. A place where our stories, our love, and our motherhood in all its unseen forms still matter.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
If you’ve experienced loss, have you ever felt that same in-between - caught between worlds, unsure where you fit in? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“It’s the little rituals that make a family feel like a family - the bedtime stories, the silly routines, the small trad...
10/13/2025

“It’s the little rituals that make a family feel like a family - the bedtime stories, the silly routines, the small traditions that turn ordinary days into memories.”
Some of my favorite childhood moments were snuggling with my mom on the couch as she read us a bedtime story, or sharing a late-night snack, usually nachos, with my dad before bed. There were ridiculous bathtime routines with soap markers and a Tupperware bowl for rinsing that my mom still has in the closet. There were Party Packs, Meatless Fridays and Sunday mornings at Nana’s house after church. Those rituals were the heartbeat of my childhood, the rhythm that made life feel full and safe.
I couldn’t wait to create that same kind of magic for my own children.
I dreamed of a book-themed baby shower, cozy family storytimes, matching pajamas for special occasions, birthday traditions that grew richer every year.
But all of those moments live only in my imagination now. Losing our babies meant losing those daily joys - the laughter that would’ve filled the quiet spaces, the memories that never had the chance to take shape. Some days, even the simplest routines feel hollow, considering what could have been.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
What family traditions or daily moments did you most look forward to sharing? How have you found ways to keep that love and creativity alive, even in their absence? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“Some losses are easy to name: the baby, the heartbeat, the future you imagined. But others are invisible: the tradition...
10/12/2025

“Some losses are easy to name: the baby, the heartbeat, the future you imagined. But others are invisible: the traditions that won’t be passed down, the family photos that will never be taken, the stories that end too soon.”
Growing up, my paternal grandparents were the center of our family universe. Every celebration, every holiday, every milestone revolved around their home. Our family traditions weren’t just routines - they were the rhythm of my childhood.
As an adult, I dreamed of carrying those traditions forward - of watching my children grow up surrounded by that same love and legacy. When we got our first positive test, I recorded a video of my Nana reading the news in a card I wrote her. It’s one of my most cherished memories, especially now that she’s gone.
I used to imagine a generational photo - Nana, my mom, me, and my baby. But we lost Nana in October 2021, just after our second loss. That photo will never exist. And at 41, I may never have the chance to continue her bloodline. These are the quiet griefs - the ones that don’t have names, but live deep in your bones.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
How has loss changed your sense of generational connection - the legacy you hoped to carry forward or continue? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“The hardest part of loss wasn’t just losing my babies - it was losing the chance to be the kind of mother and role mode...
10/11/2025

“The hardest part of loss wasn’t just losing my babies - it was losing the chance to be the kind of mother and role model I’d always hoped to be.”
As a teacher, I get to “mother” about 150 students a year. It’s my favorite part of the job - listening to their stories, offering advice, cheering them on when they need it most. Those everyday moments of connection made me dream about the kind of parent I wanted to be.
Those moments in the classroom made me dream about the kind of parent I wanted to be. Watching so many young lives unfold, I formed my own vision - how I’d nurture, guide, and love my children with intention and empathy.
But when we lost our babies, I felt like I lost that chance - to parent in my own way, to make an impact that would ripple into the future. The teacher and the mother in me both grieved - not just for the children I lost, but for the life and legacy I wanted to build through them.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
What did you hope to instill in your children? How have you found ways to carry those hopes forward, even without your babies here? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“I thought I was in the best season of my life, until everything changed in an instant.”Before pregnancy, I was thriving...
10/10/2025

“I thought I was in the best season of my life, until everything changed in an instant.”
Before pregnancy, I was thriving. I’d just hit the best shape of my life, felt confident in my career, happy in my marriage, and finally stable enough to enjoy the life I’d worked so hard to build. When that long-prayed-for positive test appeared, it felt like the universe was saying, “You did it - you’re ready.”
I was sure I’d be the healthiest, strongest, most unstoppable pregnant mama ever.
That is, until my water broke.
In an instant, my entire world flipped. I went from training for races and hitting the gym three times a week to modified bedrest - terrified to leave the house in case I miscarried in public. My husband didn’t recognize the woman I became. The fear, the anxiety, the loss of control - it all rewired who I was.
The confident, independent version of me vanished. And what replaced her was someone fragile, scared, and unsure. That shift changed everything - my work, my relationships, my sense of self. It’s taken years to rebuild even a small piece of that confidence. And truthfully, I’m still finding my way back.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
In what ways has loss changed your sense of identity? And what has helped you begin to rediscover who you are? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“When the future you’ve imagined disintegrates before your eyes, it’s hard to imagine any future at all.”After our secon...
10/09/2025

“When the future you’ve imagined disintegrates before your eyes, it’s hard to imagine any future at all.”
After our second miscarriage in May 2021, I fell into a darkness I didn’t know existed. When we got our positive test, it felt like the universe was aligning—right around Coral’s stillbirthday, as if this baby was a gift from big sister. For a brief moment, I believed in healing through new life. But when we lost that pregnancy too, everything collapsed. The only thought that echoed in my mind was, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
They tell you one in four pregnancies ends in loss, but when it happens twice in a row—when you become part of the less than 5%—hope starts to feel like a cruel joke. I wasn’t just grieving my babies; I was grieving the version of myself who believed she still had a future to look forward to.
About 17% of loss moms experience postpartum depression or anxiety severe enough that they consider self-harm. Mental health support isn’t optional—it’s life-saving.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
After loss, what part of yourself, or your hope, felt hardest to find again? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“I never expected motherhood to change me so deeply. But when I lost her, I realized I’d also lost a part of myself I di...
10/08/2025

“I never expected motherhood to change me so deeply. But when I lost her, I realized I’d also lost a part of myself I didn’t know was there.”
My first pregnancy happened at 35 - “geriatric,” as the doctors like to call it. By that point in life, I had already built so much of who I was: a teacher, a wife, a coach, a friend. I didn’t expect motherhood to become such a defining part of my identity. Maybe that was naïve.
When we lost Coral, it felt like something inside me shattered - not just emotionally, but physically. The emptiness was unlike anything I’d ever known, like a piece of me had been torn away before it even had the chance to fully form.
I’ve always been the kind of person who keeps it together in public. But after losing her, I couldn’t. I’d find myself sobbing in the grocery store line, at Target walking past the baby aisle… anywhere, at any moment. The grief came in waves that swallowed me whole.
What I came to realize was that losing Coral meant losing a part of myself - the version of me who was just beginning to exist as her mother, who was dreaming her into life.
Not long after we shared our loss, a friend sent me an article about microchimerism: the scientific truth that during pregnancy, even after loss, a mother carries her baby’s cells within her forever. Somehow, that gave me comfort. Even though she’s not here, a part of her, and that part of me, still lives on inside.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
What part of yourself do you feel you lost through your own experience with grief or loss? What, if anything, has brought you comfort in the aftermath? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“There was a version of me that believed pregnancy was pure magic — before loss taught me otherwise.”Prior to our losses...
10/07/2025

“There was a version of me that believed pregnancy was pure magic — before loss taught me otherwise.”
Prior to our losses, I romanticized pregnancy so much. I imagined it was such a beautiful feeling to grow your child inside you, taking your weekly bump pics and putting together the perfect nursery. I saw other peoples’ photos of their pregnancy and parenthood journey and was so sure that mine would be the same - simple, healthy and with a happy ending. When my water broke, that naive innocence was shattered forever.
Burying your child is the most unnatural of life’s experiences. Parents should never have to bury their children. But when you lose a baby that is growing inside you, there is a special loss of innocence; because we know that the world is a dangerous place, but we imagine that our bodies are the safest possible place. How can you trust anything if you can’t trust that your baby will be safe in the safest possible place?
Even now, the first thing I think when I see a pregnancy announcement is not “oh, I’m so happy for them!” - it’s “Uff, I hope nothing terrible happens.” Because once something this traumatic has happened to you, you know that it can happen to anyone. That loss of innocence and naivete never leaves you.
Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.
What did pregnancy loss teach you about control, trust, or the illusion of safety? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“The hardest part of the holidays after losing a baby isn’t what’s there—it’s what’s missing.”Everyone who knows me woul...
10/06/2025

“The hardest part of the holidays after losing a baby isn’t what’s there—it’s what’s missing.”

Everyone who knows me would tell you I love a theme, and I live for a great outfit. With Coral’s due date in late September, I was ecstatic to be able to celebrate all her first holidays - Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas - with adorable matching family outfits (yes, we are THOSE parents!) and my husband and I talked constantly about the little traditions we wanted to build around each holiday.

Now the holiday season carries a heaviness it never used to. After two losses and with no living children, it’s hard not to escape the weight of absence - the empty stocking, the seat left unfilled at the table, the quiet ache of what if when we see little ones in their costumes. What was once a time of joy and wonder now often feels hollow. Even six years later, there are moments when it feels like we’re simply going through the motions.

Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.

What traditions had you hoped to celebrate with your little one? And what helps you find moments of comfort as you move through the holidays? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

“Pregnancy is not just waiting for a child - it’s imagining a whole future. When you lose your baby, that future vanishe...
10/05/2025

“Pregnancy is not just waiting for a child - it’s imagining a whole future. When you lose your baby, that future vanishes too.”

As a teacher, one of my greatest joys has been seeing former students return: grown, changed, stepping into who they’re becoming. When we were trying for a baby, I remember watching my colleagues celebrate graduations and college acceptances, and I thought: That will be the best part of motherhood—watching my child become someone incredible.

When I was pregnant, I lived in those dreams. I spent hours imagining how we would raise our child, the kind of person they might grow to be.

But when Coral died, those dreams ended. Now, for the rest of my life, I will carry the unanswerable question: Who would she have been?

Throughout October, will be taking over our Instagram for a 30 day series of reflections on the many invisible losses that families suffer when they lose a beloved baby.

What dreams did you carry for your baby’s future? And in the emptiness left behind, what has helped you begin to live with the loss of those dreams? Please share in the comments, and feel free to screen snip these daily reflections and share with your own personal post or story to help raise awareness about the weight of these invisible losses.

Address

Denver, CO

Telephone

+17408377766

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