I was working on first a Masters, and then a Doctorate in mathematics when my first two daughters were born. Then when I got my first full time job, I gave birth to my son shortly afterwards. I only took a week to recover from labor with each of my daughters so that I didn’t get behind on my grad school classes. I also wasn’t willing to sacrifice my ability to breastfeed my little ones, so I either met up with my husband in between classes to feed my babies, or I learned to pump while at work. I understand the exhaustion that comes with having newborns and still working hard every day. Because of sleepless nights getting up to take care of a crying child, I fell asleep in class a few times, but I learned to lean on other people to help support me through this difficult time. I also learned a lot of tricks for working with a baby in my arms or in a seat nearby. My kids are all older now, my youngest is 5 years old, but I have a thriving career.

After the birth of my daughter, I went through postpartum depression and psychosis—something I never expected to experience. It shook every part of my identity as a new mom and a partner. My mental health struggles caused pain in my marriage, and I could see how hard it was for my husband too. I felt ashamed, overwhelmed, and alone. On top of that, I was navigating tough relationships with my parents and trying to create boundaries that didn’t spiral into conflict. Through psychotherapy, psychiatry, and eventually becoming a Certified Peer Support Specialist, I began to heal. I’ve had to distance myself from unsupportive people, stop using alcohol to cope, and challenge the voice in my head that told me I wasn’t enough. I lost a job during this time, too, and had to find a new sense of balance as a working mom. It hasn’t been easy, but reclaiming my sense of self has been worth it. Now I support others through those lonely moments of recovery and transformation, because no one should have to do it alone.

I know what it’s like when your body doesn’t feel like your own—after giving birth, illness, loss, exhaustion, or trauma. There were seasons when I wanted closeness but didn’t know how to ask for it, when desire flickered but my body didn’t cooperate, and when my emotions swung between craving touch and needing space. It’s confusing when love is still there but the familiar ways of connecting no longer fit. For me, intimacy had to become something deeper than performance or expectation. I had to learn new ways to talk about what I needed, to laugh when things felt awkward, and to find connection that wasn’t dependent on everything working perfectly. If your relationship with intimacy has changed - due to illness, menopause, trauma, or just sheer exhaustion - I can walk with you through that. Together we’ll talk about what feels safe, honest, and possible now. There’s no pressure here - just room for truth, some humor, and rebuilding closeness in ways that feel real and right for you.

I knew long before I met my husband or became pregnant that I wanted a homebirth experience with my firstborn. In addition to wanting to explore an alternative to western medicine and the current medical model for childbirth in hospitals, I was deeply desiring an experience that was intimate, comfortable, freeing, and natural. While my labor and birth experience was long and challenging, I am so grateful I had the opportunity to birth at home under the care of an experienced midwife, midwifery assistant, and doula who coached both myself and my husband through my pregnancy, labor, birth, and postpartum. It was a true blessing to feel both so connected to my body and comfortable transitioning into the role I knew I was made for— being a mom! Having a homebirth was a blessing I look forward to experiencing with future pregnancies. If you had a homebirth and just need to talk out the experience with someone, it would be an honor to share that journey with you.

When I fell pregnant with my son, having a baby wasn't on my radar. But I soon adapted to the idea of motherhood and developed a sense of self in the person I was becoming over the course of my son's growth in utero. I knew the kind of mom I wanted to be, becoming confident with the different parenting tactics, tricks, tips, and styles I wanted to use in my approach as a first time mom. What I didn't expect was the unspoken (and sometimes VERY spoken!) pressure from friends, family, my husband, and society as a whole to do things I felt were misaligned with my mothering instincts. In a busy world like ours, so much of parenting is molded from a convenience perspective rather than honoring our natural instincts and animalistic brain, which I would argue is at its most acute when postpartum and navigating motherhood. I had an extremely hard time both accepting my own desires to sometimes do things the "hard way" if I felt it was right for me, and getting others to understand my "why".

Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I was addicted to perfectionism and performance. I proudly identified as a chronic overachiever, workaholic, striving to be everything to everyone. But the weight only continued to grow throughout my career in tech, non-profit/ministry leadership, and even entrepreneurship... Until I realized how burnt out, disconnected, and unhealthy I was. Learning self-compassion and how to finally break free of both external and self-imposed pressures truly helped me untangle my identity from achievement - and it's still something I regularly practice. After becoming a mom in Dec 2024, I then experienced the hardest season of my life: a traumatic postpartum phase, a reflux/GERD/colic baby, severe PPD/PPA, ADHD brain fog, and utter despair. Unexpectedly, this experience propelled me into a new, empowered version of myself, passionate about helping other moms navigate the messy, unspoken realities of motherhood with honesty and grace. ❤️

Becoming a mom was nothing like I expected. My pregnancy was rough, both physically and emotionally. I was navigating the ups and downs of that while also supporting my husband, who was struggling with health issues. For two years, he was dealing with seizures, and it felt like I was shouldering everything—pregnancy, his health, and the anxiety of it all. When our daughter was born, it wasn’t the joyous occasion I had imagined. I struggled with postpartum depression and found myself feeling lost. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I had this deep sense of being alone in everything. It was tough to adjust to motherhood while trying to be strong for my husband too. But eventually, with the support of family, therapy, and taking things one day at a time, I found my way back to myself. Now, I want to help others who feel overwhelmed or lost in this journey—especially when it feels like everything is on your shoulders.

I was severely sick my entire pregnancy, I couldn’t eat without it coming back up, I was dismissed, and told to “well you are pregnant” at my appointments. I had gestational anemia that never went away. My birth was so severe I almost died. No one listened. Afterward, I spiraled into postpartum depression I was already at risk for, & it was the most isolating, guilt-filled time of my life. I didn’t bond with my baby right away. I couldn’t breastfeed. I felt like a failure. If you’re in that place now—or if you’re still pregnant and no one’s taking your pain seriously—I see you. I can help you prepare for appointments, advocate for yourself, and speak the truth when no one else will. I’ll hold space for the postpartum thoughts you’re too afraid to say out loud—the ones that feel shameful, confusing, or make you question if you’re a good mom. You’re not broken. You’re not alone. And here’s a secret if you are worried and thinking “I’m a bad mom” that alone tells me, you are a good mom.

After the births of both of my children, I struggled deeply with postpartum anxiety. I constantly second-guessed myself, wondering if I was making the right decisions and feeling overwhelmed by the pressure to do everything perfectly. It was an isolating experience, especially with my husband often away due to his military career. Over time, I learned to trust my instincts as a parent, accept support from family and friends, and set healthy boundaries to protect my mental and emotional well-being. Therapy helped me realize that needing help didn't mean I was failing—it meant I was being human. Now, raising two toddlers, I feel more confident in my role as a mother and more at peace with the ups and downs that come with parenting. Through my personal experience and my background in counseling and community health, I love helping other parents see that it’s okay to trust themselves and to build a support system around them. You’re not alone, and you don’t have to figure it all out by yourself.