Words are powerful. They can sting for decades, distract from reality, or bring clarity and renewed vigor. My words are intended to bring women together. They are intended to let you in and bring your best out.

Mine is a story of wanting to be understood and still fearing disclosure. In the workplace, as a young wife and mother, I wrestled to find balance and often failed. My stories are intended to let you know that you are not alone.


Most women carry some degree of restlessness- or even a throbbing ache- over motherhood issues. Singles may mourn childlessness. Professionals may question their conflicted desires regarding work and family. Some of us fear becoming our mothers or not measuring up to their standards.

My ranching background caused me to take “breeding” for granted. One year into our marriage, David and I planned to become pregnant. We did our part, but discovered, month after month, that our part wasn’t enough. Within another year, we gave birth to our first daughter, Ashley, but suffered a miscarriage and a tubal pregnancy over the next five years. Our first son, Davis, came on “Good Friday” the 13th.