Healing, Motherhood, and the Journey Back to Myself
It’s Mother’s Day here in the United States, and I want to take a moment to honor the moms who go above and beyond for their children.
I celebrate the moms who are cyclebreakers.
The ones choosing gentle parenting over a forceful hand.
The ones listening—truly listening—to their children’s hopes, dreams, and fears.
The moms who advocate for their children, even when it means confronting uncomfortable truths.
The moms who are exhausted, yet still find the energy to play one more game, sing one more song, read one more book.
Thank you. I see you. I am you.
I don’t share much about my daughter on social media for a number of reasons. But today, I feel called to share a bit about my journey with motherhood and the healing path that led me here.
How It Started
When I first started elevated aura, my intention was to work exclusively with people who had been raised in narcissistic family systems. I was 29 when I first learned about narcissism, emotional abuse, sibling bullying, triangulation, emotional incest—all of it.
I never imagined I’d become estranged from my parents and siblings. And yet, here I am.
I chose to heal because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life talking to a therapist about what my mom or sister did—or didn’t do. I wanted to be present, joyful, and mentally healthy for my future children. Before becoming a mother, I knew I needed to reconnect with who I truly was.
When you’re almost 30 and still don’t know who you are, it’s overwhelming. That’s when I turned to astrology. It gave me a map back to myself. It helped me validate how I think, how I feel, what I crave.
Now I help others do the same—not just survivors of toxic families, but anyone who feels like there’s more waiting for them. The ones who still believe in magic and the healing power of love.
The In-Between
As some of you know, I’m currently in the “in-between.” My former career in journalism ended when I was laid off from my day job in September 2024. I’m still building my career as an astrologer and spiritual life coach. I have faith—but as a human and a mother to a one-year-old, I worry too.
What I didn’t expect was the gift hidden in this season: the chance to raise my daughter at home. No daycare. No nannies. No village. Just me.
When I had my day job, I cared for my baby during the day and wrote in the evenings or on weekends. The flexibility allowed me to focus on her, which was healing in a way I didn’t expect—especially given what happened during my pregnancy.
When Everything Changed
At 20 weeks pregnant, during my anatomy scan, a concerning cyst showed up on one of my ovaries. The doctors started mentioning ovarian cancer. They told me not to move too much, not to Google anything, and to prepare for an emergency MRI and potential surgery.
But that wasn’t even the beginning.
At just six weeks pregnant, I began experiencing intense morning sickness. The hormone relaxin had kicked in, and the force of vomiting pinched a nerve in my neck. I lost nearly all mobility in my arms. I couldn’t raise them past T-Rex level—even with assistance. My husband had to help me with everything: showering, cooking, dressing. Even light touch from a bedsheet felt like fire.
That paralysis lasted until I was about 20 weeks pregnant. I leaned into mindset work, especially teachings from Dr. Joe Dispenza, to heal. I was determined to hold my baby one day—and I wasn’t willing to give up.
By my birthday week, I was pregnant, estranged from my family, facing paralysis, learning I was going to be laid off, and being told I might have cancer. I’ve never felt more vulnerable.
Eventually, we learned the cyst could wait. I delivered a healthy baby, and when she was just two months old, I underwent surgery. One ovary was removed, and the cyst on the other was excised.
The fear was paralyzing. I cried most nights after she fell asleep, terrified of what I might miss if things didn’t go well. The morning of my surgery, I took a photo with her. I forced a smile—not for me, but for her. I wanted her to have a picture where I looked happy, just in case it was our last together.
Thankfully, the surgery was successful. No cancer. No complications. Just deep, abiding gratitude for every moment since.
This Mother’s Day
I accidentally became a stay-at-home mom—and I love it.
My heart goes out to every mother who wants this time with their babies but has to work. And to the stay-at-home moms who are deeply tired—I see you too. This work is emotionally exhausting. It takes everything you’ve got.
But it also goes by in a blink.
So to the mothers who are doing their best to heal…
The ones trying to give their children something better…
The ones building new legacies out of broken patterns…
You are seen. You are honored. You are loved.
Happy Mother’s Day.