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By Alyce Collins and Regan Hickey
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I was so excited to become a mom and I had dreamed of starting a family for as long as I can remember. One person who was always present in that vision was my own mother, Lorraine Tanner.
My husband, Mike, and I packed up our lives in Arizona in March 2023, moved to the U.K. and started a wonderful life in Stratford-upon-Avon. From the moment I called my parents back home to tell them I was pregnant, my mom instantly started planning her visit. She wasn't just coming to England to meet her first grandchild, she was coming to support me and help protect my mental health when she knew I would be vulnerable.
That’s because I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder at the age of 16 after two episodes of psychosis. Due to my history, my mom knew that major life events could increase my risk of postpartum psychosis. The plan was for her to help with the baby so that I could get the sleep I needed, because we knew lack of sleep was a major warning sign.
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My mom always wanted to visit Mike and I in England, but she was nervous about flying. So, making the trip towards the end of my pregnancy was a big deal for her. She did not want to miss this moment, and she was so excited to be there for the birth of her first grandchild.
When she arrived in October, she immediately threw herself into helping us prepare for the baby. She brought so many special things, including the outfit that my three brothers and I all wore home from the hospital. I had no idea she kept it all these years. She also brought my baby's first dollar bill, along with some books from when I was a baby.
She loved exploring England. We went on daily walks through the countryside, took her to towns in the Cotswolds, explored Shakespeare’s hometown, and took her to a castle. My mom was my safety net. I felt like if she was there, everything was going to be OK.
‘We Truly Thought Everything Was OK’
For the two weeks my mom was in England, she did not display any symptoms.
However, on the morning of October 31, 2025, she mentioned some discomfort in her calf. We thought she had pulled something because she had been walking so much since arriving. I was 41 weeks pregnant and didn’t feel great myself, so I told her that we didn't need to do anything and we could both rest.
About an hour later, I went to check on her, and she asked me if her left leg looked swollen and discolored. It did, so I helped her back into bed, elevated her leg, and we watched as the swelling went down.
At that point, we truly thought everything was OK.
Later that morning, I heard her get up because she wanted some water. She walked downstairs, but when she reached the bottom, she became short of breath. She sat down and said she needed to go to the hospital because something didn’t feel right.
Just a minute before, she was having a normal conversation with us, then suddenly, I watched as my mom turned blue. Mike immediately began CPR and managed to save my mom’s life twice while we waited for the ambulance.
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While the paramedics worked on her, I called my dad.
It was the middle of the night in Arizona, but my dad had his phone on loud as he was waiting for the call to say I was in labor. However, he did not expect to hear that his wife of almost 40 years was dying.
The paramedics worked on her in our home before taking her to the hospital. As the ambulance drove away, Mike and I followed, praying that she would make it.
When we arrived at the hospital, Mike and I were taken into a private room. The doctor came over and explained that they believed my mom had suffered a pulmonary embolism caused by a deep vein thrombosis (DVT), a blood clot in a deep vein. He told us they would do everything they could, but I needed to prepare for the worst.
They worked on my mom for around an hour and a half. Eventually the doctor returned, knelt down in front of me and gently said, "I'm so sorry. We tried everything, but there's nothing more we can do."
They cleaned my mom up as best they could and kept her connected to the ventilator long enough for me to say goodbye. Walking into that room is a moment I will never forget. I begged her to open her eyes, even though I knew she couldn't. All I wanted was to kiss her forehead one last time, but my pregnant belly stopped me from reaching her.
I told my mom how much I loved her and thanked her for teaching me how to be a mom. I promised that I would tell my son everything about his grandma and that I would strive to be the same kind of mother to my own child.
‘She Was Letting Me Know She Hadn’t Left Me’
After saying goodbye to my mom, I was taken upstairs so the maternity team could check on me and my baby. Thankfully, the test results were fine and we were allowed to go home and wait for labor to begin naturally.
Walking out of the hospital was one of the hardest things because it meant accepting that my mom wasn't coming home with us. She would never return to Arizona.
Over the next few days, I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mom losing her breath and turning blue. My mind replayed those moments, and I kept asking myself if there was anything I could have done differently. I was afraid to go into the room where my mom had been staying. I was afraid to walk down the stairs where we'd had our last conversation.
I went into labor just days later, physically and emotionally exhausted. I could not even feel my contractions.
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In one moment, I felt a sudden cold breeze pass over my body, and I am convinced it was my mom. We had always planned that she would be with me when I gave birth, and somehow, I felt like she was letting me know she hadn't left me.
When Phoenix was born at 12:16 a.m. on November 3, my first feeling was overwhelming love. Almost immediately afterward came the realization that my mom would never get to hold him or kiss him.
‘I Knew My Own Warning Signs’
Despite everything that had happened, I felt an instant connection with Phoenix. I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
But within hours, I became incredibly unwell. I was vomiting, shaking, running a very high fever, and still losing blood. I genuinely believed I was dying. I was told I would need daily blood thinner injections to prevent a blood clot. That sent me into a panic because I just watched my mom die from a blood clot, so it was very triggering.
Having lived through bipolar episodes before, I knew my own warning signs.
From the beginning, I felt like I was trying to stop myself from slipping into psychosis. I told the midwives that I felt manic. I explained my history of Bipolar 1 disorder and how important sleep was.
As the days went on, I could feel my thoughts becoming busier.
Then the delusions began.
The moment I became truly frightened was a week after giving birth when I thought I could fly. When I was 16, one of my psychotic delusions had been that I could fly, so I knew I was losing my mind and running out of time.
My delusions felt like absolute truth. That's what makes psychosis so frightening, it genuinely felt like I had unlocked a new version of life.
So, for mine and my family’s safety, I admitted to Mike that I needed professional help.
Following psychiatric assessments and refusing to make antipsychotic medication, I was detained under the Mental Health Act on November 12. I was taken by ambulance to the Mother and Baby Unit, where I spent the next five weeks receiving treatment.
One of my biggest fears was being separated from Phoenix, and that made it harder for me to ask for help. But being able to stay with my son while receiving treatment made an enormous difference. My dad also flew to England, and he came with Mike to visit Phoenix and me every single day. Seeing them reminded me that I wasn't facing this alone.
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I was officially discharged from the Mother and Baby Unit on December 23 and it felt like I could finally begin rebuilding. I could start finding my feet as a mom with Mike by my side.
Now, I genuinely feel like I've found myself again.
My family has been an enormous part of my recovery. I speak to my dad and three brothers daily, and Mike has been my biggest support. I also make time for the gym, long walks with Phoenix, and being outside.
Most importantly, I absolutely love being Phoenix's mom. That's something that has never changed.
I want other moms to know that there is no shame in asking for help. Postpartum psychosis is a medical emergency, and it deserves to be treated that way. My mom always encouraged me to share my mental health journey. She believed that talking about it could help other people feel less alone, and this feels like my first step in honoring her wish.
Regan Hickey, 32, resides in the U.K. with her husband Mike and their son, Phoenix. Following the loss of her mom three days before her son’s birth, Regan has documented her journey through grief, DVT awareness and postpartum psychosis on social media (@reganmhickey on TikTok). She urges others to know the signs of DVT and for moms to ask for help as soon as possible.
Contact Newsweek editors on this story: Charlotte Nisbet and Emma Lee-Sang
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