07/16/2025
I grew up fast — too fast — when I was twelve years old and the pillar of my world left home for treatment. Over the next two decades, I felt the terror and the numbness settle in, layer by layer, with each new diagnosis. We’d wonder, maybe this time we’re done with chemo forever, or fear the day she’d say, no more.
My mom was one of those people who did so many things right — she filled our table with organic foods, swam every morning, dog-eared every page of her Moosewood cookbook. But there were pieces her body was still missing, things that kale and good intentions alone couldn’t reach. And the medicine that was supposed to save her kept chasing the cancer as it found new ways to hide.
Watching her journey shaped me more than any classroom ever could. It cracked me open and lit a fire in me — to learn, to question, to dig deeper. To find what’s missing. To give my future babies a different story. To make sure other families don’t have to hold their breath every time a doctor calls.
They say our deepest wounds can become our greatest gifts. So here I am — all of my training, my relentless curiosity, my life experience — offered up to anyone reading this who feels that tug in their gut: I want to be more than a statistic. I don’t want my kids to grieve a parent who’s still alive. Or maybe you are that child, ready to break the pattern.
If any of this feels like yours too — I’m here. And I’d be honored to walk that road with you.
And for those of you wondering, yes my miracle woman of a mother is still here with us today and every day is a gift.💝
