I believe birth is one of the most profound experiences a person can move through — not just physically, but emotionally. The fears you carry in, the hopes you hold, the way you feel seen or unseen in the room — all of it shapes the experience. I came to this work because I lived that truth myself.

In 2017, I gave birth to my first son. What began as a medical induction ended in an emergency caesarean, and I came out the other side shaken — in pain, flooded with adrenaline, and grieving the birth I had hoped for. I had believed in my body. But belief alone, I learned, isn't enough. The emotional stress, the busyness of modern life, and the reality of a stretched public system all played a role. I felt disempowered, and that feeling stayed with me.

Recovery sent me deeper. I became quietly obsessed with understanding the emotional and physical landscape of birth — what shapes it, what shifts it, what makes the difference between an experience that breaks you and one that builds you.

When I gave birth to my second son, everything was different. A VBAC — a vaginal birth after caesarean — under a continuity of care model. Even within a public hospital, it was nurturing and aligned. My body knew what to do, and this time I had the support to let it. The contrast between my two births lit something in me that hasn't gone out since.

That's what brought me into this work. I support women in finding their strength, their voice, and their own path through pregnancy, birth, and the weeks after. I hold space for the emotional terrain just as much as the physical preparation — because both matter, and neither can be separated from the other.