Motherhood was my turning point. It didn’t arrive as a sudden awakening. It came as an unraveling. Slow, tender, and deeply transformative.

Before my son, I lived in a world shaped by pace, structure, and achievement. I built a successful career in real estate. I learned how to be decisive, how to lead, and how to hold myself firmly in a male-dominated space. I became fluent in certainty and strength. For a long time, I believed that was who I was. But it was only part of me.

Beneath that outer life, something older had always been present. I come from a lineage of intuitive, spiritual women. As a child, I was sensitive and curious. I was drawn to the unseen, to ritual, and to what couldn’t be explained.

Reiki and spiritual counselling found me early. They quietly became anchors in my life. Even during my career, they were the places where my nervous system softened. They were where I could breathe and return to myself. It was during my second Reiki attunement that I was initiated as a Priestess.

Pregnancy changed everything. As my body grew and shifted, it began speaking truths I had long ignored. My feminine — intuitive, cyclical, ancient — started to rise. It did so with a clarity that couldn’t be pushed away.

When I gave birth to my son, I met myself stripped back and open. I could no longer return to the life or identity I had worked so hard to maintain.

That transition was not easy. It was messy and lonely. It held grief for the version of myself I was leaving behind. Healing didn’t feel graceful. It felt like learning how to stay present in uncertainty. And in many ways, I am still walking that path.

My freebirth was not about bravery. It was about recognition. A deep trust in my body. A trust in the women who came before me. A trust in the quiet wisdom that had been guiding me all along.

Reiki, spiritual work, and my relationship with animals became steady companions during this time. Not as answers or fixes. But as support. They grounded me. They reflected me. They reminded me of the resilience held within the body and the natural world. Now, my work is an extension of this journey.

I offer spaces where women can slow down. Where they can soften and feel supported. Where the feminine does not need to be explained or defended — only trusted.

Here, the beauty and the mess are both welcome. So are grief, confusion, and transformation.

This is the path I walk. And if you feel the pull, you are so welcome to walk it with me.