Unexpected Beginnings

I was 31 years old, healthy, and pregnant with my second child. I didn’t know the gender and couldn’t wait to meet this baby. My first delivery had been relatively smooth - early, but uncomplicated. Like many people do, I assumed the second would be similar.

On January 4, 2012, my daughter Naomi Alona was born. It was the day my life changed in ways I could never have imagined.

Something didn’t feel right that morning. I trusted that instinct and called my doctor, who sent me to the hospital. I was induced, reassured that everything would be fine. Her due date was still two weeks away, but close enough. I told myself what I needed to hear: I can do this.

Losing Control

Labor unfolded quickly and intensely. Being induced changed everything - contractions came without pause, and after the epidural I could no longer move my legs on my own. My mom and husband stayed with me, helping however they could, reminding me I was safe.

But I wasn’t.

An emergency C-section became necessary. I remember seeing Naomi for the first time, crying tears of relief and joy, believing the hardest part was over.

It wasn’t.

I could sense the urgency in the room. The energy shifted. I knew, with a clarity that still stays with me, that something was very wrong. I remember staring at the ceiling and saying the words out loud: “I’m going to die.” The response - “We’re doing everything we can” - confirmed what I already felt.

I experienced catastrophic bleeding. I was taken back into surgery, leaving my newborn daughter, my husband, and my mother behind. At 31 years old, I was faced with an impossible decision: another emergency surgery and hysterectomy, or death.

I kept bleeding. I underwent multiple surgeries, received massive blood transfusions, and spent days in the ICU. The hospital all halted elective procedures to save my life. My family waited - frightened, exhausted, unsure if I would survive.

Seven days later, I did.

I was alive.

Regaining Power

When I woke up, I had little understanding of what had been done to save me. Four surgeries. An extraordinary amount of blood. Tubes, drains, and a body that no longer felt familiar.

But I was alive.

Something shifted in me then. I was determined not only to survive, but to reclaim myself. I pushed through and showed my doctors - who had fought so hard for me - that their work mattered.

On January 17, Naomi’s original due date, I was discharged from the hospital and finally brought my baby home.

I was a survivor.

Finding Myself

Trauma doesn’t end when the crisis passes. It lingers quietly, shaping how you see yourself and the world.In the months that followed, I focused intensely on my wellness - physically, mentally, emotionally. I trained for and ran a half marathon. I rebuilt trust in my body. I leaned into the support of my husband, who had been my partner for nearly a decade and knew me deeply.

And then, life shifted again.

My husband came out to me. The man I loved, my best friend and the father of my children, was gay. It wasn’t something either of us expected - but it was his truth.

Once again, things were not fine.

And once again, I found a way forward.

From Surviving to Thriving

In my mid-thirties, I found myself dating again, co-parenting in ways that didn’t always make sense to others, and learning how to support someone I loved while also honoring my own needs.

Six months later, I met my husband Andy - someone who stepped into my complicated life with steadiness, openness, and commitment.

Together, we’ve built a life that is uniquely ours.

Through all of this, I stopped making long-term plans and started living with intention in the present. I learned that caring for myself is not optional - especially during hard seasons. I discovered a deep connection to wellness, movement, creativity, and challenge. I tested my limits through endurance events, outdoor adventures, and travel. Slowly, I found myself again.

Most Importantly

I’ve learned that second chances are rare and precious.I’ve learned that living authentically matters - even when it’s uncomfortable and even when it changes everything.And I’ve learned that strength isn’t about control.

It’s about resilience, self-compassion, and choosing to keep going.

I am Stronger Today.

You don’t have to do this alone.
If you’re navigating change, healing, or rediscovering yourself, I’m here to support you.