Jerica's Story

It was Jerica’s lunch hour, perhaps the only break in her day.

Nonetheless, she picked up the phone.

“I’m in this little park by where I work. The sunshine feels fantastic. If I close my eyes, it kind of feels like vacation.”

“You’re working and also have a 12-week-old?” I asked. “That’s amazing! And you don’t sound the least bit tired!”

“I’m exhausted, but I’m ready to speak with you,” she said. “I will never pass down an opportunity to talk about Kay. That's how much I love her.”

It was instantly clear that Jerica was a force of nature, so I did exactly what my parents taught me to do when encountering such a presence: I listened, learned, and got out of the way.

Here are some of the highlights from our 30-minute conversation:

• I’m Puerto Rican, and my abuela still goes out to the garden, picks some herbs and crushes them into a tea to cure an upset stomach. I love the way our families and elders have, how do I say, a more natural path. But I get that modern medicine is also important. Blending those together, the traditional and the modern, that’s what works for me. I think that’s why I decided to go with a midwife. And I chose Kay.
• When I first met Kay I was instantly hooked: her attitude, her demeanor, how she treats you. It was almost like sitting down and talking with a family member, like an aunt that I'm close with. It was easy to be honest with her.
• Being a mother is the one thing I’ve always wanted. So when I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s disease, a thyroid disease that can make conceiving more difficult, that was devastating news for me.
• Following the diagnosis, it was suggested I try to take a more natural approach in my diet, to find a healthy balance. Sure, I love salads, but I’m not going to turn down a cheeseburger. I decided to eat what made me happy. And I was pregnant two months later.
• I had HG (hyperemesis gravidarum) with my first. Sick my entire pregnancy. Lost a lot of weight. I was at Women’s Care all the time, getting IV’s because I was so dehydrated. The nurses were all fantastic! (Shout out to Diane, who was like my best friend through all of it!)
• I had HG with my second pregnancy. And again with my third, delivered last November.
• Because of the constant nausea, I would be freaking out all the time. ‘Is this baby going to be okay?’ Kay was always like, ‘Your baby's so happy in there, just dancing around!” We had extra ultrasounds to make sure, not just because I was sick but also because I was over the age of 35, and you’re considered “geriatric.”
• Yeah, geriatric. We gotta change that name.
• I would have loved to have a midwife at home, but I guess there’s always a worry about complications. Again, it's the blending of two worlds, so I was getting that personal midwife feel but in the hospital setting.
• When I was laboring, Kay was walking the floor with me. When I’d have contractions, she'd be standing in front of me, counting them out with me. My first daughter was born on Christmas, so we spent Christmas Eve and Christmas morning together!
• For all three, Kay always asked what my goals were with the pregnancy, what my birth plans were. First off, my birth plan was no plan at all, because if I plan something out and it doesn’t go accordingly, that's just going to stress me out. My goals were to go as natural as possible. I didn't want laughing gas. I didn't want an epidural. I wasn’t opposed to their use if needed, but I wanted to be encouraged to go natural. And Kay's like, ‘Sounds great!’ And I wanted to avoid a C-section. ‘Okay, cool!’ But if she was to say to me, ‘Jerica, you need to get a C-section,’ then we’d get a C-section. I wanted a safe delivery, a healthy baby, and a healthy me, but Kay’s the expert and I needed her to tell me when we were at that line, because I don't know.
• I was just talking to my husband about this interview. I think he wanted to be in on it, because he loves Kay too. And he’s been so great. He's so supportive. He’s always like, “Hey, you’re the one giving birth. Just tell me what you need from me. More specifically, what you don’t want me to do. And I’ll make sure I don’t do that.’ He went with me to every single appointment and got to see Kay every time.
• On my Facebook mom groups, when people are looking for a provider, I tell them this: GO TO KAY! GO TO KAY!
• Are we done having kids? Yes, we are done. Done.

Chelsea's Gender Reveal Story

It started with a Facebook comment, submitted last month for our Packer contest:

Shout out to our sonographer (I believe initials are KF on our ultrasound pics) who unknowingly had us convinced our baby was a girl and gave us the surprise of a lifetime when we opened her envelope and unfolded the sticky note that was folded a million times and read "Boy!" Thanks for being part of our super fun and emotional gender reveal!

 And a picture:

Then we just wanted more details.

And a generous mom gave us just that.

This is Chelsea’s Story:

Let me set the stage for Zayn’s gender reveal by starting with our first, Kenzie, who will be five in April. We were going to find out the gender at a little party, not at the anatomy scan. Therefore, the sonographer had me and my husband close our eyes when she was checking the genital area. Later, she asked us to close our eyes a second time, and she checked again. So when we found out that we were having a girl at our gender reveal, the double check experience was in our minds.

Fast forward to the anatomy scan for our second, and again we didn’t want to know the gender at this time. The same sonographer did the double check thing again, exactly like when we had our daughter. A tip off.

They wrote it on a sticky note and folded it up, but we knew. It was going to be a girl.

Soon after, a friend convinced us our suspicions were correct.

‘I’ve got three boys,’ she said, ‘and I never had to have a double check for any of them. You’re having a girl.’

And now a little backstory. We struggled with infertility, or, as Dr. Reed calls it, subfertility. So there was a lot of extra stress and effort and emotions that went into creating our family. While we were going to be happy with either a girl or a boy, we were kind of hoping for a boy, because if we had two girls, we were probably going to try for a boy. It was just going to take some of the pressure off of us with our third child.

Anyway, the gender reveal party was only a few days removed from this whole discussion, a party we wanted to be as unique as our daughter’s was (fireworks on NYE!), something that went beyond a blue or pink cake.

My Packer-loving husband liked the idea of having a Packer theme. Why not have it on a game day? And since the draft was coming to Green Bay the following spring, why not do the reveal like a draft pick?

So we filled up a private room at a local establishment with family and friends, and when the time was just right, and we were on the clock, we silenced the crowd with the sound of the ESPN NFL Draft chime. Just to make it official.

‘With the first pick in the 2025 draft,’ my husband said, ‘the Cook family selects . . .’

We opened the envelope and immediately burst into tears.

‘BOY!’ we read.

We could not believe it. We were hysterically happy.

And that struggle with creating our family I mentioned before, well, that all came flooding back. How in 2019 we found out it wasn’t working to create a family on our own. Started with fertility meds, got pregnant, and miscarried right as Covid was starting to shut the world down. Then six months later we got pregnant with our daughter. And because that worked for us, we figured it would work again. For a year or more we were back on the same meds and it wasn’t happening.

So we did more.

IUI was the next step. We took it as a sign when my husband’s company changed health insurance to include fertility coverage. This was going to be our year! Starting in January of 2024, we did four rounds of IUI and they all failed. IVF was going to be next. And we were all in for that.

After the fourth failed IUI, we didn’t do medications for the next month. You wait for your period to start again, and then the first step is birth control. So we’re doing all this IVF stuff, labs and prep work, just waiting for my period, and guess what? It doesn’t come. I take a pregnancy test. And I’m pregnant. Just as I was about to start an IVF cycle. That definitely added to the emotions of gratitude and gratefulness.

We’re Christian and give all the glory to God. We believe that he creates these little miracles, and he had this story written for us. He wanted to challenge us.

And He sure did.

Mom’s Note #1: Back to the Packers. While we had already picked the name Zayn, my husband’s head was stuck on Jayden. Yes, the very name of one of his favorites on the Packers, Jayden Reed. I wasn’t so sure. When our son was born we just couldn't decide right away, so he went three hours without a name.

My husband left it up to me. Jayden’s a good name, but it just wasn't our boy.

Mom’s Note #2: KF is Kathy Feldkamp, our ultrasound sonographer. Thank you so much, Kathy, for being part of our special gender reveal!

This and top image by Sara Jean Photography

BOY!!

Courtney's Story

Doctors often don’t receive the recognition they deserve. My experience with Dr. Johnson was truly life-changing and has significantly improved my quality of life.

In October of 2023, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. I was fortunate that it was caught early and treated surgically. As with any surgery, there are risks and potential complications—you just never expect to be the one it happens to. During surgery, my bladder suffered nerve damage. I lost the sensation to know when I needed to urinate and had difficulty initiating voiding leading to urinary retention.

I tried pelvic floor therapy with little improvement. I saw other urology specialists, underwent testing, and was eventually told I had a neurogenic bladder—and that there was nothing that could be done. I was told catheterization would eventually be my reality. I was led to believe that was simply the path I was given.

For about a year, I stepped away from appointments and tried to live my life. But by mid-2025, it was becoming increasingly difficult to urinate and, without sensation, I often forgot to even remind myself to go. Then, by what truly feels like divine intervention, I was scrolling Facebook and came across Women’s Care and Dr. Johnson’s bio. I had never considered a urogynecologist as someone who could help me—but I took a leap of faith and scheduled an appointment the next day.

That first appointment left me hopeful. Dr. Johnson was incredibly knowledgeable about everything I had been through. The visit wasn’t rushed. I felt truly heard and respected. He made vulnerable, personal topics feel like any other normal conversation. And most importantly—he had a potential treatment option. Something I had been told did not exist.

He introduced me to InterStim, a surgical implant essentially functioning as a pacemaker for the bladder. He explained everything thoroughly, and I left without unanswered questions. In November, I underwent the trial and permanent placement surgeries. To my surprise and relief, the InterStim worked. The surgeries were uncomplicated and straightforward, and the device restored significant bladder function. It has reduced urinary retention, helped preserve my kidney health, and—most meaningfully—allowed me to live without alarms dictating when I need to use the bathroom.

Because of Dr. Johnson, this is the most normal my body has felt in the last two years. This experience has not only helped heal my physical body, but has also helped me process and move through some of the trauma of the past. I am incredibly grateful for Dr. Johnson and the care he provided. His expertise, compassion, and willingness to listen made all the difference in my healing journey.

Remi’s Story

There are stories that change the shape of your life. And then there are stories that become the shape of your life. This is one of those.

Our daughter was stillborn. Those words still feel impossible to write, even a year later. Her birth, in some ways, was everything we imagined. And in so many ways, unimaginable. The story of Remi’s birth began like so many others. I began laboring at home, and after a few hours we headed to the hospital, diaper bag and car seat in tow. When we arrived, the unimaginable happened.

The nurse couldn’t find her heartbeat. It felt like a fever dream. Like our doctor would walk in and say, “Just kidding, let’s have this baby.” But that was anything but true. The moments that followed are ones Andy and I both wish we could forget and never lose at the same time. That has been the theme of this past year: living in duality.

Our doctor was called, and somehow, defying all odds (like she would so many more times), arrived from home in what felt like two minutes. She stepped into action with a kind of care I had never witnessed before. She made sure we were kept away from the sounds of newborn cries and new parents. She ushered us to a quiet room, far from the joys of new parenthood we would be missing.

From there, we were given the time and space to feel exactly what we needed to feel, with support from Dr. Swift and her team to help us make decisions that felt too big to hold. She guided us through grief with kindness, knowledge, and a calm sureness that made us trust every single decision she made. When everything felt out of control, her steadiness mattered more than I can explain.

When it was time, Remi’s birth was quiet and devastating. The room held a kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but heavy with meaning. Time moved strangely. Everything went slowly and too fast at once. What could have been chaos was instead held by an extraordinary care team.

Nurses who moved gently.

A doctor who treated her not as a loss, but as a person.

As our daughter.

As someone who mattered.

They honored her life, even in death. They honored us as parents. They gave dignity to a moment that could have been clinical and cold, and instead made it human, sacred, and compassionate. That kind of care changes you. It stays with you. It becomes part of your healing.

There is no language that fully captures what it feels like to give birth and not hear a cry. To hold your baby and know the world will never meet her the way you imagined. There is nothing that can prepare you for coming home to a quiet house when you planned for the exact opposite. The crib meant for little toes, empty. The halls meant for midnight cries, silent. The onesies neatly folded, never worn.

Your body feels the effects of having a baby, but your arms are empty. Nights are sleepless for a different reason. Hugs are for consolation instead of congratulations. And through all of it, we were not alone. Our family. Our friends. Our support system. People who showed up without needing words, who honored Remi and grieved with us without trying to fix either. That kind of love is rare. We will never be able to thank our army enough.

Today, on January 27th, we celebrate her first birthday.

In the last year, it hasn’t gotten easier. It hasn’t healed everything. Our grief hasn’t disappeared. We still miss Remi every day. But we celebrate her because she is the baby who made us parents. She matters. She changed us. No matter the length of a life, it can still leave an imprint that lasts forever. She is our first child. She is Otto’s sister. She is part of our family story forever. We do not move on from her. We move forward with her.

Happy first birthday, sweet girl. You are known. You are loved. You are remembered. You are part of everything we are becoming.

Educational Note on Stillbirth and Umbilical Cord Length: Stillbirth affects about 1 in 175 pregnancies in the United States. It is a loss that often arrives without warning and without a clear explanation, even when parents have done everything “right.” In Remi’s case, we later learned that her umbilical cord was nearly three times the average length. While the typical umbilical cord is around 20–24 inches, hers was significantly longer. This can increase the risk of cord entanglement or compression, which can disrupt oxygen and blood flow to the baby. What makes this especially painful is that umbilical cord length and related risks cannot be reliably seen or predicted on ultrasound. There was nothing we could have done to prevent this, and nothing that could have been detected ahead of time. Stillbirth is not caused by stress, diet, movement, or a parent’s choices. Sometimes, tragically, it is the result of circumstances beyond anyone’s control. We share this not to explain away Remi, but to honor her story with truth, and to remind other parents that this kind of loss is not a personal failure.

For Remi: Remi, you changed us forever. You made us parents. You made us softer, braver, and more aware of how fragile and miraculous love is. We carry you in the way we love Otto, in the way we notice small things, in the way we hold joy and grief side by side. We miss you every single day, in quiet moments and loud ones, in ordinary Tuesdays and in the milestones that ache. Your birthday will always be sacred to us. You are part of our family, part of our story, part of who we are becoming. We love you beyond language, beyond time, beyond what we can see. Happy first birthday, sweet girl. You are here, with us, always.

If you are reading this and carrying a loss of your own, I want you to know that your baby matters. Your grief is real. Your love is real. And the relationship you have with your child does not end because their life was brief. We are learning that grief does not disappear, but it changes shape. Remi is part of us. She is part of our family. She is part of who we are becoming.

And so are the babies who changed you.

Megan's Story

Megan was in Menasha, heading to Oshkosh.

I looked out my window in Appleton. Swirling snow, gusting winds.

“Are you sure you want to give a testimonial while you're driving?” I asked.

She laughed and said, “We’re good at multi-tasking, right?”

I think she meant moms, but in case she was including older adult males without children, I agreed.

And so Megan began:

I didn’t choose Kay Weina; somehow, I think it was just meant to be. My original OB was unavailable when I went into labor with my first. I was going to be induced and ended up going in a little bit early. Kay happened to be the provider that was on call. And she was just amazing. I ended up delivering a baby that was two pounds heavier than we predicted. Ten pounds. But no tearing or any issues, which is unheard of with a baby that size.

Anyway, Kay was absolutely wonderful. She and my husband really hit it off too, so it was like, ‘Alright, we’re going to keep you!’ We got lucky and Kay was able to deliver my second. She’s so amazing. She listens. She’s personable. She brings the calm.

Which is good, because you’re anxious when you’re in labor. I remember when my first got stuck, I got to swearing. Kay was like, ‘It’s okay, breathe. Just breathe.’ Then I’d swear some more, apologize, and she’d just laugh!

Kay recently delivered our third, after a five-year gap. We really weren’t sure if we were going to have another, but we were lucky and got pregnant. And it was perfect, again. So, we’ve got a seven-year-old, a six-year-old and a four-month-old.

Our four-month-old, Ellie, slept four hours straight last night, so maybe that’s why I offered a testimonial while driving this morning. I wanted to give Kay a good shout out today.

Yesterday this conversation might not have happened.

Erika's Story

Fourteen hours after I gave birth to my daughter, Stella, I carefully lowered myself into a wheelchair as my husband wheeled me through the hospital into the Children’s NICU. My body ached, my mind felt foggy, and my heart was heavy in a way I didn’t yet understand. Just fourteen hours earlier, everything had changed. I was on day three of a hospital stay meant to monitor me until it was “safe” for Stella to be born.

I was only 26 weeks pregnant and had been diagnosed with severe preeclampsia. We worked hard to keep Stella in as long as possible, hoping to reach at least 28 weeks. That morning, I suddenly could not breathe. Each breath felt shallow and panicked. When I complained of chest pain, my OB at Women’s Care of Wisconsin, Dr. Sara Swift, responded immediately. She listened. She acted.

An X-ray soon revealed a dangerous amount of fluid building up in my lungs, and it quickly became clear that this was a life-or-death situation. From that moment on, everything moved fast, but Dr. Swift never wavered. Her confidence, knowledge, and calm presence are what carried me through the most terrifying hours of my life.

As I was rushed into surgery and prepared for an emergency C-section, she reassured me again and again that I was going to be okay, and that Stella was going to be okay too. In a moment where fear threatened to take over, she provided steady leadership and small, but powerful, moments of hope that I will never forget. At 2:49 PM, Stella Lane was born. 1 pound, 15.8 ounces. 13.49 inches.

She did not cry.

She was immediately placed in the hands of the NICU team, and I did not get to see her face or hold her right away. It was not the beginning I had imagined, but it was the beginning of her fight. The first time I saw and touched my daughter was fourteen hours later. She was impossibly small, just under two pounds, yet already incredibly strong.

Our journey included 83 days in the NICU, a season that challenged us in ways we never expected. What sustained us throughout this experience were the people who walked alongside us. From the OB and labor and delivery nurses at Women’s Care of Wisconsin who helped save my life, to the NICU nurses and respiratory therapists who cared for Stella with such compassion, we were surrounded by extraordinary medical professionals who treated us with skill, humanity, and genuine care.

After delivery, Dr. Swift continued to monitor me closely for months, ensuring that my recovery was progressing safely and that my health was truly stable. Her commitment to my care did not end with delivery, and that ongoing support meant more to me than words can express.

The day Stella finally came home felt surreal, like stepping into a life we had been afraid to imagine for so long. Today, Stella is a perfectly healthy seven-month-old. She requires no oxygen, no feeding tube, and has no long-lasting effects from her early arrival. She is in the 50th percentile for weight and the 90th for height, strong, curious, and full of life. She amazes us every single day.

I still carry pieces of this experience with me, but each day brings more healing and more gratitude. Because of the care we received at Women’s Care of Wisconsin, both my daughter and I are doing great today. We will always be grateful to Dr. Swift, the entire team at Women’s Care of Wisconsin, our labor and delivery nurses, and the incredible Children’s NICU staff for the care that changed our lives forever.

Jane’s Story of Resilience

“Hearing those words, ‘You have cancer,’ can turn your world upside down,” said Jane, as she reflected on her journey through ThedaCare, starting with Women’s Care of Wisconsin’s Dr. Valary Gass.

Jane acknowledged that she may not be representative of the typical patient whose stories are shared in our blog, but she was strongly inclined to recognize Dr. Gass’ influence upon her journey.

This is Jane's life-changing story:

In early 2020, I started to experience symptoms such as irregular and excessive spotting, despite being post-menopausal. Unfortunately, ignoring the symptoms was compatible with my approach towards gynecology, as my experiences with past practitioners have been less than positive. However, it came to a point where I could no longer ignore the possibility that I may have cancer (my ultimate diagnosis was endometrial cancer).

After seeing my primary in Waupaca, it was recommended that I see a provider in the Valley. Not being familiar with any ob/gyn providers, I checked the Women’s Care site and saw Dr. Gass’ profile, thinking, she looked kind, accepting. I noticed her warm smile.

During my first appointment with Dr. Gass, I was immediately put at ease. It turns out that her smile was sincere, and reflective of her compassion and generous nature. Before initiating any procedure, she took the time to listen intently and acknowledge any potential concerns. She did not judge or try to negate any former experiences that I presented. She reassured me that I had autonomy and control. It felt like she was partnering with me, rather than directing me through the process.

In order to feel more comfortable through the procedure of taking a biopsy, she reminded me that nitrous oxide (“laughing gas”) was an available option, and I should not feel ashamed for easing the discomfort. And so, I did accept the aid, again feeling reassured by her approach.

During the procedure, Dr. Gass walked me through each step, explaining in detail, with a calm and reassuring voice.

After the procedure was completed and the sample collected, I was given time to gather myself. Dr. Gass brought the sample to me, so I could see the abnormality.

She said in a gentle, but direct tone, ‘You may want to prepare yourself; this looks suspicious to me,’ while holding up the vial. ‘These cells may be cancerous.’

Her approach boosted my trust, which made all the difference in how I participated in my treatment. I knew I had to prepare and empower myself for the steps ahead. I felt confident that I could take on the challenge.

Dr. Gass later called to validate her suspicions, and again did not sugarcoat or distract as she laid out the recommendations. Before ending the call, she took the time to ensure that I understood what she had said, and asked if I was doing okay emotionally. Again, her sincerity and compassion evident.

And so I began the five-year process through ThedaCare Oncology, which was as good of an experience as it could be. All of the providers there, also competent and caring. After graduating from oncology, I was referred back to gynecology, and chose to return to Dr. Gass’ care.

I just recently saw her for my five-year marker and she acknowledged my recovery with enthusiasm, and that warm-hearted smile, sharing how truly happy she was for me. Her validation meant a lot, as I reflected on the very start of my journey. It was the spring of 2020, which was also the start of Covid, a very dark time for all of us, patients and providers alike. I remain grateful to the professionals within the ThedaCare system who were assigned to my care; they were always professional and supportive.

I have learned much about myself along the way. I am more resilient than I thought I was. I have a different perspective on life and my relationships, and I have learned to take better care of myself, physically and emotionally.

I have been retired for nearly two years now and feel grateful for the gifts of time and freedom. I adopted a 5-pound Chihuahua, named Quinn, who is my companion as I venture into all things nature related. Spending time among trees, kayaking on still waters, biking down a path, seeking adventures while camping. Quinn is my constant companion through it all. She seems to love riding with me on my moped most of all, as she has a vantage point of all of the rabbits and squirrels in the neighborhood, keeping tabs.

Looking back, I can say that I am truly blessed.