I know what this season looks like
You might be running on fumes
but still pushing through.
Still showing up.
Still handling everything.
Still being the one everyone depends on.
And lately, you may be wondering:
Why does this feel so hard?
Why can’t I handle this the way I used to?
How long can I keep doing this like this?
You might be a millennial woman
who spent years building your career, your stability, your independence.
You did things intentionally.
You waited.
You prepared.
You made sure the timing was right.
And now you’re a first-time mom —
holding a baby in one arm
and a lifetime of responsibility in the other.
You’re the one people count on.
At work.
In your family.
In your community.
You’re used to going above and beyond.
Used to being dependable.
Used to figuring things out on your own.
So when motherhood feels harder than you expected,
you don’t fall apart.
You push through.
Even when you’re exhausted.
Even when your mind won’t shut off.
Even when a quiet part of you wonders:
I’m exhausted, but I can’t stop.
If I don’t get things done, everything will fall apart.
Who else is going to take care of this?
That’s the woman I work with.
And it’s the woman I was.
My story
I became a mom during the pandemic
I would wake up around 7am, feeling guilty for wanting more time
At the time, I didn’t understand what was happening in my body.
And like so many women, I felt like I had to hold everything together.
I remember being completely exhausted.
My husband would take the baby in the morning so I could rest —
but even then, I couldn’t sleep.
So I got up.
Even though my body felt drained.
I told myself what a lot of moms tell themselves:
If other moms can do this, I should be able to handle it too.
The sleep deprivation.
The hormonal shifts.
The constant mental load of caring for a baby while trying to hold onto the version of myself I knew before.
Then something shifted.
That moment changed everything.
That realization is why I do this work today.
Other mothers started sharing their experiences with me.
They talked about how hard feeding was.
How overwhelming everything felt.
And I remember thinking:
Oh… it’s not just me.
It helped me understand something I now tell my clients all the time:
Motherhood can be deeply meaningful
and incredibly hard at the same time.
And no woman should have to carry that experience alone.
It came from sitting within my own life — understanding the context I was raised in, and integrating what I know professionally through a culturally rooted, anti-oppressive lens.
My training and experience
I bring more than a license to this work.
Not just because I understand motherhood professionally, but because I understand what it feels like to carry so much responsibility while quietly wondering if you're holding it together.
Over the years, I've sat with hundreds of clients. And for the past three years, I've focused specifically on women in seasons just like this: pregnancy, postpartum, fertility struggles, grief, identity shifts, and the pressure of trying to do everything well.
Women who are strong. Capable. High-achieving.
And exhausted.
I'm a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist (LMFT, PMH-C) with over a decade of clinical experience, and for the past several years, I've specialized in perinatal mental health, supporting women through pregnancy, postpartum, and the early years of motherhood.
I work virtually with BIPOC mothers throughout California, with deep roots in the Bay Area.
My training matters.
But what matters even more is how I use it.
I combine clinical expertise with lived experience, including miscarriage, infertility, high-risk pregnancy, time in the NICU, and current seasons of mothering, so the women who sit across from me never feel like they have to explain why this season feels harder than they expected.
Because I have an intuitive and curious awareness. The kind where you can look at a mom's face and know she's had a moment.
And you know what? Because of how I was raised, I like to fine-tune and enhance my knowledge. I love being a forever student, so I can keep sharing what I learn.
How I work
Let me be honest with you: I don't do surface-level coping work.
The women I sit with are sharp. They've already done research, listened to the podcasts, and tried to push through on their own strength.
They don't need a therapist who just sits and nods. They don't need another tip. They need a space where they can finally exhale.
That's why we move through three phases:
Remember. Realign. Reclaim.
Remember
We slow things down. We look at what you're carrying, what's yours, what was handed to you, and what you've been holding simply because no one ever told you it was okay to set it down.
Realign
We help your body regulate so it can feel calm and steady again. We process what happened, whether that's a difficult pregnancy, a NICU stay, fertility struggles, or the quiet grief of losing the version of yourself you used to be. And we examine the expectations you've carried for years to decide what actually fits the life you're living now.
Reclaim
We rebuild trust in yourself, so you can mother from steadiness instead of survival.
You don't give up what you thought was strength. You redefine it.
If you are still reading this...
