People often joke that it never feels like the “right” time to have a baby, but it really felt like the wrong time when I found out I was pregnant with my first child.
I was in the middle of closing down a business while trying to restart another one, hemorrhaging so much between business debt and lawyers that I sold my car, took on an additional job, and moved in with my parents to save money. My husband had just shut down his restaurants due to the pandemic and was stuck in the middle of the green card process and wasn’t permitted to work. On top of that, my pregnancy was awful. I was sick for the entire ten months while working three jobs.
Then my son Milán was born with a health condition—though none of the doctors believed so initially. He was vomiting everything he ate and dropped from the 85th to the 11th percentile. I was told by four different doctors that I shouldn’t be concerned, that I was catastrophizing a normal phase of infancy. “He’s fine,” they said. “Every baby spits up.” Then he started vomiting blood. I rushed him to the hospital where they performed surgery and discovered that the vomiting was caused by a valve in his stomach that had been closed since birth.
After the surgery, life didn’t slow down the way I needed it to.
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I had no choice but to keep working since I was the only one with an income, leaving my husband to primarily raise Milán for the first year and a half of his life. I was severely sleep-deprived because Milán never slept, starving myself to try to eliminate anything that may trigger his stomach sensitivities post surgery, still processing the emotional turmoil of the past few months, and working long hours.
I knew I had to keep moving forward, but how long could I do this for?
The first step was admitting to myself that the way I was living and working wasn’t sustainable. I had been operating in survival mode for so long that it felt normal—exhaustion, constant pressure, and the belief that if I just pushed harder everything would eventually work.
Believing in a better path forward
When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter less than a year later, I mapped out the version of motherhood I wanted the second time around. I knew I wanted to be the primary caregiver. I couldn’t go through the same struggle I had with my son— working nonstop while missing so much of his early years.
The first step was admitting to myself that the way I was living and working wasn’t sustainable. I had been operating in survival mode for so long that it felt normal—exhaustion, constant pressure, and the belief that if I just pushed harder everything would eventually work.
Acknowledging that something had to change was uncomfortable, but it was also the beginning of possibility.
I set two clear priorities: my children first, and only the work that truly moved my businesses forward second. For that to work, my businesses had to grow to a point where I wasn’t necessary for every part of it and I needed support.
From there, I started creating tiny pockets of space in my life. That meant doing things like blocking small amounts of time on my calendar just to think, journal, or reflect. I began asking myself simple questions: What actually matters? What is draining me the most? What would make life feel even slightly lighter? I wrote down every single thing I was spending time on—big and small—and began removing, delegating, or restructuring anything that didn’t support my priorities.
Another early step was asking for help, including hiring an operations manager. As entrepreneurs and parents, we often feel like we’re supposed to carry everything alone. But the reality is that change started happening when I allowed other people to step in — delegating small tasks, leaning on community, and being honest about where I was struggling.
It became apparent that each small adjustment created a little more breathing room, and over time those small changes compounded into something bigger.
Staying determined when things got difficult
By the time my daughter Marseille was born, I had task-management systems in place, someone reviewing my email, and someone responsible for making sure projects moved forward. I time-blocked my schedule, planned meetings in advance, and focused only on the work that actually moved the business forward.
Even still, the process was hardly linear. For about six months I was constantly reevaluating what I could realistically manage as a mother of two. I was still working really late nights and early mornings, often sleeping just 4-5 hours per night as I adjusted and understood my capacity. It was exhausting and uncomfortable—I had spent years putting work above everything else, so I had to change deeply ingrained habits.
What carried me through was sheer determination. I became relentless about building a life that felt different from the one I was trapped in, and to create something beautiful for my family. It became apparent that each small adjustment created a little more breathing room, and over time those small changes compounded into something bigger.
Piece by piece, I began rebuilding not just my schedule or my businesses, but my capacity to live in a way that actually felt sustainable.
Knowing how to find my way back
Today, life looks very different than it did during those early years, but it’s still evolving.
For a period of time I was able to work mostly part-time while remaining the primary caregiver for my kids. Then, about a year ago, I decided to move back into expansion mode. During that period my family bought two businesses and grew business-wise across the board. It created more financial freedom and incredible opportunities, but it was also a lot. Eventually I found myself feeling unbalanced again.
The difference this time is that I know how to find my way back.
I’m now intentionally moving back into contraction mode, reducing my workload and creating space again. I’m taking time for things that I once pushed aside: exercise, therapy, writing, and deeper personal reflection. I’m also working on being more present with my kids. That’s still a challenge, but I’m learning.
Emotionally, I feel stronger than I ever have. The experience of pregnancy, childbirth, and those early years of parenting forced me to confront parts of myself I hadn’t examined before. I’m doing the deeper work of understanding the roots behind my behaviors and truly healing from the inside out.
Life still moves in cycles, and I’m sure it always will. But I feel proud of the journey and the lessons it taught me.
My hope is that my kids grow up seeing that it’s possible to build a meaningful life while also being imperfect, human, and happy.
