Hi, I’m Emily.

I’m a pediatric occupational therapist, an infant mental health specialist, a lactation counselor, a bereaved and medical mom—and a trauma-informed grief coach.

For over 16 years, I’ve worked closely with babies and their families, most recently supporting children ages 0–3 in their homes. What I’ve always loved most about this work is the relationship—the trust families offer when they let me into their space, into their story.

Beyond training, lived experience taught me how to sit with others in their stories, to listen with my heart.

My understanding of grief began long before I ever named it that way.

At 32, just six months into marriage, I nearly lost my life to a pulmonary embolism. I grieved my sense of safety, my trust in my body, and the future we thought we were building.

In the years that followed, I experienced multiple miscarriages, each one carrying its own quiet, layered grief.

And then, in 2018, our daughter Cora was born with a rare genetic condition and a life expectancy we were told could be as short as 6–12 months.

I was shattered.

And at the same time, I became everything she needed. I poured myself into loving her, parenting her, being present with her… often losing parts of myself along the way.

She lived longer than expected, which was both beautiful and deeply complex.

In May of 2020, Cora died at home, in our arms.  A part of me went with her.

And in the middle of a global pandemic, much of that grief was held alone.

When our son was born in 2021, we hoped for a different experience. And for a brief moment, it seemed like we had it.

But within 24 hours of being home, we were readmitted to the hospital. Soon after, we learned he also had a medical condition; different from Cora’s, but one that pulled us right back into the world of medical parenting.

We were thrown back into the world of medical monitors, feeding challenges,
hypervigilance, and fear.

And again, the grief.

The kind that lives cohesively with joy. The kind that no one quite knows how to respond to.

There were times I didn’t recognize myself.  Postpartum depression and anxiety took hold.
I felt like a ghost of who I used to be.
I felt alone in rooms full of people.

Somehow, in the middle of that, something quietly shifted.  I did my own work through therapy, I learned about the many facets of grief, the rhythms of grief, and the way it shows up in our whole body and mind.

I deepened my training in infant mental health.
I focused on attunement, regulation, and the parent-child relationship.
I became a lactation counselor.
And eventually, a certified trauma-informed grief coach.

Not because I had it all figured out, but because I knew what it felt like to need support that didn’t always exist.

Today, my work is rooted in both professional experience and lived understanding.

I feel deep kinship with parents navigating:

• NICU stays and disrupted beginnings
• life-limiting or complex medical diagnoses
• the long road of seeking answers
• anticipatory, ambiguous, and profound grief

I know how isolating it can feel. And how hard it is to put words to what you’re carrying.

That’s why I created this space.

Not to fix your grief.
Not to rush you through it.

But to offer a place where your story can land, and be met with care, understanding, and softness.