I became a caregiver long before I understood what it meant to care for myself. When my brother was diagnosed with a rare genetic disease, I spent much of my childhood in hospital waiting rooms, watching how easily people disappear inside a system meant to help them. Those early years showed me the cracks in our medical institutions and how much it matters to truly see someone when they are vulnerable.

In my early twenties I traveled abroad with a global health initiative, fitting women and children with hearing devices and witnessing them hear for the first time. This experience taught me that support doesn’t have to be elaborate to change someone’s life. It can be as simple as being present with the person right in front of you.

I went on to earn a Master’s in Public Health, focusing on maternal and child health, and eventually found my path into doula work. With guidance from my mentor (the legend) Julie Freitas, I built my practice entirely through word of mouth. It wasn’t long before women began reaching out to me, eager to learn how to become a doula and asking if I could mentor them.

During the pandemic, doulas were forced out of hospitals, leaving women to give birth alone, sometimes without even their partners. I initially turned to studying midwifery to channel my rage, but I soon realized my true calling is educating and empowering women, providing knowledge and support so they can claim agency in their own lives.

I have noticed that many important conversations about inhabiting a woman’s body are missing from public discourse; topics like embracing the natural ebb and flow of the menstrual cycle, understanding ovulation, and rejecting the idea that perimenopause diminishes a woman’s vitality.

We face a lot of precarious messages in our culture; social media content that misleads, spiritual teachings that oversimplify, therapy culture that can trap people, and a medical system that profits on fear. I’ve noticed how it all trains women to distrust themselves. But women aren’t broken. Our systems and networks of support are.

I create intimate environments where women can slow down, be honest with themselves and each other, and notice what feels true in their own bodies without judgment or pressure. I feel deeply protective of this work and the women I support simply because I know how rare it is to have someone sit with you, see you and believe you.

My work highlights the importance of caregiving as a personal, collective, and ecological practice, ways of remembering that care is not a luxury but a shared human responsibility.

People often say you need to learn how to care for yourself before you can care for others. My life has taught me something different. You can discover what love feels like in the very act of being a loving, supportive presence to someone else. It is through caring for others that helps us find our way home to ourselves.