It was 3 a.m. when Jenica Guevarra—better known to her thousands of TikTok followers as Mommy Jae or @eommajaeni—felt the first leak. Not a kick. Not a contraction. Just a warm, unsettling wetness that didn’t stop. She was seven months pregnant. Her husband was asleep. And her mind wasn’t ready for what her body was already doing.
“Akala ko umiihi lang ako,” she says, almost laughing at the absurdity. But it wasn’t funny. Not at all.
By 7 a.m., it was clear—this wasn’t a false alarm. She shook her husband awake, told him to grab whatever they could, and they rushed to the hospital. Her mind spinning. Her belly still full. Her heart completely unprepared.
At just 32 weeks, baby Sevy McKlein was coming. No birth plan. No going back.
The Delivery That Broke Her—Then Built Her Back
Photo from Eomma Jaeni
They tried to wait. Tried to keep him inside a little longer. “May tubig pa daw sa tiyan,” she explains. Doctors were hoping for a natural delivery. Jaeni wanted that too—like she’d done with her daughter, Yassy Scarlett, now 10 years old.
But the wait turned dangerous. The fluid was gone. Infection was creeping in.
“I was really afraid,” she says. “Gusto ko sana normal delivery, pero sabi ng OB ko—kung pahabain pa, baka kami pareho in danger.”
So she said yes to the knife.
Emergency CS. At 30 years old, Jaeni lay in a sterile operating room while strangers in scrubs fought to save a son she hadn’t even met yet.
Sevy Was Tiny, And So Was Her Strength
His first baby boy came out weighing barely 2 kilos. “Parang bote ng 1.5 soda. Gano’n lang siya kalaki,” she says.
She didn’t hold him. Not at first.
Photo from Eomma Jaeni
“Takot akong hawakan siya,” Jaeni admits, her voice quieter now. “Kahit sinabi ng nurse na okay lang… hindi ko kaya. Ang lambot ng katawan niya. What if mabali ko siya? What if may magawa akong mali?”
She wasn’t new to motherhood—but this felt like unfamiliar territory. “Yassy was born full term. This… this was different. I was different.”
It took a week before she could bring herself to touch her son. “Pero sabi nila, kailangan daw. The babies get stronger when it’s their mom who holds them.”
So she did. Every single day. She came back to the hospital. Held him close. Whispered to him:
“Magpagaling ka na. Magpalakas ka na. Para makauwi na tayo.”
And like some strange kind of magic, it worked.
Fear is Louder at Midnight
Raising a premature baby is like living on the edge of a panic attack. Every sound becomes a red flag. Every cough, a silent emergency.
“There were nights na nagre-red siya. Tapos minsan parang purple na yung lips niya. Hindi na siya humihinga. So we’d call the doctor. Every time.”
Photo from Eomma Jaeni
Even at home, sleep was a myth. “Sometimes, nasasamid siya habang natutulog. Akala ko every time, yun na ‘yun.”
Jaeeni coped the only way she knew how: research and raw instinct. “I read everything. Pinanood ko lahat ng videos. Kinausap ko mga kaibigan ko na may preemie baby din.”
But the fear never really went away.
“Ang kinakatakutan ko talaga—baka may mali akong ginagawa. Kasi ang daming bawal, ang daming ‘dapat ganito.’”
So she did what most mothers do when the fear gets too loud. She stayed calm. Or at least tried to.
“Kasi kung magpa-panic ako, walang mangyayari. Mas lalala lang.”
Mom Guilt… And the Myth of ‘Enough’
Even now, with Sevy getting stronger each day, the mom guilt doesn’t leave.
“Parang kahit anong gawin ko, kulang. Parang lagi kong inuuna pamilya ko. Lagi kong inuuna baby ko. Pero sarili ko? Laging huli.”
She’s not bitter about it. Just tired. Raw.
“Hindi pwedeng ako yung mahina,” she says, matter-of-fact. “Kasi sila, umaasa sa’kin. Yung asawa ko. Yung mga anak ko. Ako yung sandalan nila.”
And when you’re the foundation, you don’t get to crack. Not even when you want to.
Her Husband: The Quiet Backbone of the Whole Story
If there’s a hero in this story that doesn’t get enough airtime, it’s Jaeni’s husband.
Photo from Eomma Jaeni
“Siya lahat. Siya yung paa ko. Siya yung naghanap ng financial assistance. Kasi ang laki ng bill namin. Two weeks kaming nasa hospital. Umabot ng gabi, nasa kalsada siya—humihingi ng tulong. Tapos sa gabi, inaalagaan niya ako.”
She breaks, just a little, when she talks about him. “Wala siyang reklamo. Wala siyang sinabing pagod na siya. Siya lahat.”
Sometimes the strongest parent isn’t the one on camera. Sometimes, it’s the one walking hospital hallways at midnight, asking strangers for help.
Breathe, Then Try Again
“To all moms like me—new moms to a premature baby—I know what you’re feeling,” she says, looking straight into the lens of her camera during our interview. “You’re tired. You’re anxious. You’re wondering kung tama ba ginagawa mo.”
Her advice? Breathe.
Photo from Eomma Jaeni
“Inhale. Exhale. Tapos kumilos ulit.”
She doesn’t sugarcoat it. She doesn’t pretend to have it all together. But what she does have—what every parent of a preemie eventually learns to develop—is grit.
“Okay lang mapagod. Okay lang malungkot. Pero kailangan nating maging malakas. Kasi sa atin sila umaasa.”
And maybe—just maybe—being “enough” starts with knowing that you won’t always feel like it, but showing up anyway.
Stronger Son, Stronger Self
Sevy is home now. Loud. Hungry. Alive.
Photo from Eomma Jaeni
“Sobrang bibo na niya. Umiiyak na siya nang malakas. Hindi na kami takot hawakan siya. Lumalaki na siya.”
He still has check-ups. Still has some organs that need monitoring. But the worst is behind them.
Jaeni’s voice lights up when she talks about him now. “I’m breastfeeding. He’s latching. He’s gaining weight. We’re okay.”
For a baby who wasn’t supposed to be here yet—who barely weighed more than a soda bottle—he’s beating the odds. Every. Single. Day.
What Sevy’s Name Really Means
“Actually, yung name niya, galing sa kapatid ng husband ko. Yung namatay na.”
She pauses, lets that sit.
“We just wanted a way to remember him. Kaya naging Sevy McKlein. Supposedly, gusto ko Jewel Sevy. Kasi parang ‘precious.’ Pero nung nasa ER na, nakalimutan na. So we went with Sevy McKlein.”
No frills. Just meaning.
And If You’re Reading This, Maybe You Needed to Hear It Too
Parenting a premature baby doesn’t come with a manual. There are no Pinterest-perfect routines, no cute milestone photos that align with the baby books. It’s survival. It’s 2 a.m. breakdowns in the bathroom. It’s whispering “please be okay” while holding your breath through every doctor’s update.
But here’s what Mommy Jae wants you to know. You’re not failing. You’re just doing something incredibly hard.
And you’re still here. Still showing up. Still loving that little life with every shaky inch of your heart.
Photo from Eomma Jaeni
“I’m still learning,” she says. “But I know now that it’s okay not to be okay. What matters is, hindi tayo sumusuko.”
So whether you’re in the NICU right now or sitting in silence after a hard day at home… take this as your sign: You’re doing enough. Your baby doesn’t need perfect. They just need you—tired, messy, loving you.
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