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The First Breadcrumb

A true story from me to you.


If you're reading this, welcome to a page out of my story—not the highlight reel, not the Pinterest board, but the messy, beautiful, painful beginnings that shaped the colorful chaos I live in today.

It all started on October 2nd, 2009—the day I met my daughter, Ellie Rose. She was born still. And in that moment, so was I. Still. Frozen. Stuck in a silence that didn’t match the world rushing around me.

Losing Ellie cracked something open inside me. A grief I couldn’t name. One I couldn’t outrun. Less than a month later, I found out I was pregnant again—with her little sister, Danika. And just like that, there was no time to heal. No time to breathe. I had to keep going, keep mothering, keep surviving... even though I hadn’t had a single second to fall apart.

And let me tell you—I fell apart. Quietly, privately, and often with a drink in my hand. Alcohol wasn’t my party—it was my pause button. My grief had no exit, so I gave it shortcuts. And those shortcuts lasted years. Through five kids, more trauma, and a thousand moments where I looked like I was doing “just fine” on the outside. But inside? I was unraveling.

Healing didn’t show up with a makeover montage. It showed up when I started speaking. Writing. Decorating my space in ways that made me feel safe. Laughing at my own chaos. Creating a life that felt soft around the edges—because I’d lived with sharp ones for far too long.

Ellie was my beginning. Not just in motherhood, but in transformation. She never took a breath—but she gave me mine back. And I honor her every time I share my truth, connect with another soul, or choose to keep showing up when it's easier to shut down.

I don’t share this for sympathy. I share it because someone out there has their own breadcrumb moment—and maybe they haven’t connected the dots yet. Maybe they’re still stuck in the bottle phase, or the blur, or the survival loop.

If that’s you, babe—know this: you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re becoming.


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