When you think of "risk" in women's professional sports, your mind might go to a torn ACL or a career-ending injury. But for the women who play—and the women who cover them—motherhood presents a different kind of gamble. One that doesn't always make the highlight reel.
LAS VEGAS — I was 37 weeks pregnant, standing at the back of a group photo while covering the WNBA Finals. My belly was undeniable, and so was my instinct to hide it.
Rewind a few months: I was the Las Vegas Aces' beat writer during their 2025 championship run. From training camp to the final buzzer, I was there. And I was pregnant the entire time. It should have felt empowering—after all, the WNBA is a league built by working moms, from players to coaches to front office staff. And in many ways, it was. But there was another story unfolding behind the scenes.
I started shrinking as soon as my bump became visible. Not because I wasn't proud of my pregnancy, but because I was terrified of how it would change the way people saw me. I'd been grinding since my college newspaper days in 2019, trying to prove I was tough enough for this business. The journalism world doesn't slow down for anyone, and I was scared that showing my pregnancy would signal that I was slowing down.
So I hid. I dodged cameras during media scrums. I positioned myself at the edge of every group shot. I didn't want anyone to think my dedication was wavering.
Then came the diagnosis. A pregnancy complication that shifted everything. Suddenly, the fear of what my coworkers might think felt laughably small compared to the fear of losing my baby—or worse, losing my own life.
That's the real risk of motherhood in sports. Not the time off. Not the perception. It's the health of the mother and child. And it's a reality that too many women in this industry have faced alone.
I'm not proud of how much I hid. But I'm sharing this now because if you're a woman in sports—whether you're on the court, in the press box, or in the front office—you deserve to know that your career and your family can coexist. And that the only thing truly worth protecting is your health.
Because at the end of the day, no championship run is worth more than a mother's life.
