The ICP Care website alone, when I was first diagnosed, was incredibly helpful and provided me with great guidance on what to expect. When the itching first began during my pregnancy with Oaklee, it didn’t seem like much. It was early fall, and the scorching Arizona heat made everything feel a little uncomfortable. But as the days passed, the itching became relentless—mostly on my hands, arms and feet, enough to keep me awake at night. At 29 weeks pregnant, I mentioned it to my OB, almost casually. Thankfully, my doctor didn’t brush it off.
Bloodwork revealed elevated bile acids: intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy (ICP)—a condition I had never heard of until that moment. My heart sank as I learned that ICP wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was dangerous. Risks like stillbirth, preterm labor, and fetal distress suddenly became real.
My pregnancy quickly shifted into high-risk. I started medication—ursodeoxycholic acid—and underwent weekly monitoring. The anxiety was constant, but Oaklee proved to be a fighter. At 37 weeks, her care team decided the time had come. Oaklee was born healthy, full of life, and breathing on her own—no NICU stay needed. The moment I held her, the fear melted into relief. My itchy baby was finally here and safe.
4 years later, I was pregnant again—with Kinsley. This time, I knew the signs. The itching returned earlier—at just 22 weeks—and so did the familiar knot in my stomach. I had hoped maybe, just maybe, lightning wouldn’t strike twice. But ICP had returned, and earlier this time.
The diagnosis hit harder, not because it was unfamiliar, but because I knew what it meant: more monitoring, more medication, and more worry. But I also knew I was stronger this time. I had done this before.
Kinsley’s pregnancy was carefully managed, every week a milestone checked off with caution and hope. My care team watched closely, and at 36 weeks, my levels were rising so they decided to induce. The delivery was smooth, and once again, my daughter came into the world strong and healthy—no NICU stay, just warm arms and all the love in the world.
Two pregnancies. Two daughters. Two brushes with a condition that could have taken so much more. Through fear and sleepless nights and weekly appointments, I was able to carry them both safely into the world.
And now, when someone tells me that itching is “just another pregnancy symptom,” I tell my story—because sometimes, it’s much more than that.
