When I became a mother, a version of me died, and a new one was born. I look back now on that time as its own birth, the birth of mother. I too traversed a wormhole canal of transition from the before, to the after. 

It is an axis inside my life.

My boys are sixteen months apart. (No they’re not twins!) They are spirited, bright, stubborn, sensitive, lovely little people. Watching them live with joy and curiosity, watching them hurt, watching them love — catching glimpses on the merry-go-round of the sweetness and impermanence of these days, through the din and dizziness of not-enoughness and grind culture and keeping up — it breaks my heart open.

Becoming their mother also broke open the question of who I was now. What was left of me. Whether there was a me left at all.

I know what it's like to feel lost, overwhelmed, resentful, truly despairing, and even regretful in parenthood. I know how hard it is to feel like you're not enough — for your kids, your partner, your life. I needed other mothers. I needed to talk, relate, find out exactly what the hell had just happened to me. When I found my people — women willing to name the hard things, sit in the uncertainty, and not rush toward being fine — something shifted. I've been on a wild journey ever since of deep work around identity, belonging, and finding space for myself inside this life.

That's what brought me here.

I came to this work through experience, not a traditional clinical path. My first women's circle was as a SheRide participant and then coach, helping craft a community of women reaching for joy and empowerment on their snowboards — and discovering the power, vulnerability, sisterhood and belonging possible when women gather together. 

In the haze of the two-under-two years, trolling the internet for hope and understanding, I found Beth Berry and Motherworthy. For the past five years I've been a participant and student of Beth Berry's work in Motherworthy and Revolution from Home — and I can't overstate what her work and that community have meant to my own healing as a mother. I'm completing a licensing program with her now: MotherWoven, specifically designed to launch women into this work. Meanwhile, I've been holding and facilitating community support spaces through For Love & Babes for five years, a local nonprofit supporting mothers and parents in meeting parenthood in a healthy and sustainable way.

I'm a facilitator and a writer. I'm not a therapist or a certified coach, and I want to be honest about that. What I offer is facilitated space — for reflection, honest conversation, and the kind of slow witnessing that most mothers never get enough of. I work alongside therapists and recommend them wholeheartedly. This is something different, and I believe it's something needed.

A few other things worth knowing:

I'm based in Mancos, CO — Ute and Pueblo territory — and work locally in person and virtually on Zoom. I'm a therapy junkie who married a therapist and generally surround myself with them. Star Trek and Buffy geek — expect references. Books and wine are bottomless wells of wonder. I looooove to cook. Pretty much always looking for things to feed my curiosity.

If you're a mother somewhere in the long middle — not in crisis, not fine — I'd love to sit with you.