A Big Week, A New Year (For Me), and the Stories We Tell Ourselves

This is a big week — and a big month. Yesterday, May 4th, was TFMR (Termination for Medical Reasons) Day. Tomorrow, May 6th, is World Maternal Mental Health Day. And tomorrow also happens to be my 46th birthday.

As I step into a new year — one filled with promise, new goals, and new projects — I find myself wanting to do two things at once: look forward and look back. Because sometimes, seeing how far you've come is exactly what you need to keep going.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the stories we tell ourselves — and how much those stories shape us. How they guide us through this wild, complicated thing called life. And how simply considering a different perspective can change the trajectory of everything: our choices, our healing, our relationships.

My story began more than 46 years ago, but the chapters I want to share today are the ones that drew the map to who I am now. I've written before about my loss — specifically about terminating a very wanted pregnancy, which is why TFMR day is important to me. I've also shared how postpartum depression and anxiety touched my life. Today, I want to go a little deeper. I want to share a tiny glimpse into my motherhood story — because that's where so much of it begins.

When Motherhood Wasn't What I Expected

When I imagined becoming a mom, it felt hopeful. Puppies and unicorns kind of hopeful. When I actually became one, it was nothing like that. A colicky baby. Trouble nursing. Pumping. A prolapse that went undiagnosed for far too long. Days that longed to be filled with anything but what I was doing. And then another pregnancy on top of it all. Motherhood was hard — so hard that my husband pretty early on encouraged me to go back to work. So, in a lot of ways, Village Wellness was born right alongside my own matrescence.

If you were a client of mine back in those early days, you might not have known I was struggling right alongside you. Struggling to balance motherhood and career. Struggling with a child who had significant speech delays. Struggling to find my own voice to help him. Struggling to raise two babies — born just over 13 months apart — while still trying to hold onto some version of myself. Getting lost in the chaos, and desperately not wanting to disappear completely.

Loss, and What Came After

There was a season in there when I thought I finally had it all figured out. And naturally, that felt like the perfect time to get pregnant again.

That pregnancy became a defining moment in my life, it’s also my story of loss.

After almost 11 years of reflection, though, I can see clearly that it also became a place of growth. Grief has a funny way of breaking us open — of giving us new eyes to see our world differently. I wasn't able to see that for a long time. Because not long after that loss came another pregnancy filled with anxiety, a birth that was hard on my already compromised body, and a postpartum journey marked by depression, suicidal thoughts, and overwhelming anxiety.

And then, eventually — slowly — a real understanding that I needed help. That no one was going to change the story but me.

Healing Is Not a Straight Line

What I'm sharing with you today is the result of 8.5 years of healing. And here's the thing about healing: it keeps changing. And it keeps changing you.

The question women ask me most often is: How did you get through it? How does it feel now?

Honestly, I'm not sure I have a perfect answer. But the one thing I know I did — the thing that made the biggest difference — was this: I stopped hiding.

I opened up to the people around me. I accepted help. I stayed curious and let go of the idea that I had to have all the answers. And I held onto this tiny, far-fetched hope that maybe — just maybe — I would be okay. And I am.

What I Want to Leave You With

You know the saying: you can't see the forest through the trees. I definitely couldn't. It took everything I had just to keep going.

But in the last few years, the view has gotten clearer, and the path a little easier to walk. I know what I need to feel good. I understand how those experiences shaped my perspective and my world. They were awful. They weren't fair. And yes, I sometimes wonder what life might have looked like without them. But instead of staying in that question, I try to see what life is — and to carry those experiences with curiosity, not just weight.

That's what I want to leave you with: be curious. If you're struggling, be curious about what you're feeling. Ask questions about the story you're telling yourself — about what happening, its impact and your role. About who is with you, who supports you, who brings good energy and who doesn’t. 

Explore it. Stay curious. And hold onto this: it won't always feel like this. There are still hard days. But I know where I've been, and I know this is a different place. My story is still going — and I'll keep showing up to tell it.