Blog #2: The Night Everything Changed

I was in my infant daughter’s nursery — the soft glow of the moon spilling across the floor, casting silver light over the crib. My baby was only three months old, small and utterly dependent, her tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

But my own body was failing me.

Every nerve pulsed with fire. My legs trembled beneath me; I could barely stand. My mind was fogged, my thoughts fractured. Waves of pain surged through me like electricity, unrelenting and cruel. I felt like a prisoner inside my own skin.

I wanted so desperately to be strong — to nurse my baby, to care for my family, to show up for the life I had built — but I couldn’t even care for myself. My body had become foreign, unrecognizable. The diagnosis loomed like a death sentence in the back of my mind, whispering that this was my new reality.

And then, something inside me broke open.

I fell to my knees on the hardwood floor, the moonlight spilling across my tear-streaked face.

Through sobs, I cried out to Heaven:

“Lord… if You deliver me from this illness, I will serve You with everything I have.
I will be Your handmaid.
Shine Your face upon me.
Walk with me. Carry me.
Show me the way out of this hole I find myself in.”

In that moment, something holy filled the room — a stillness, a peace that wrapped itself around me like a blanket. I knew I had been heard.

It wasn’t a cure that night.
It was a promise.
A sacred covenant between me and God.

That if He showed me the way, I would walk it — no matter how hard, no matter how long.

And so, I began.

Soon after, I returned to Mass. I would sit in the back of the church, in tremendous pain, barely able to move. But I closed my eyes and prayed with all that I was. In the silence of my heart, I begged God for wisdom — to show me the way to healing from the illness that even decorated neurologists had declared incurable.

That night marked the beginning of my true healing journey — not just of body, but of spirit.

The Detective Awakens

As a former ICU and Trauma nurse, I had spent years solving medical puzzles, working in the world of emergencies and evidence. But this was different — I was now the mystery I needed to solve.

I didn’t accept the label or the limits that were placed on me. Instead, I went to work. I became my own case study — reading, researching, testing, and seeking truth. My scientific mind partnered with divine guidance.

Every symptom became a clue. Every flare-up, a message. Every setback, a nudge to look deeper.

The Missing Piece

It didn’t take long to realize that my illness wasn’t just physical — it was multidimensional.

My body was holding onto trauma. My nervous system was trapped in survival mode. I was living on autopilot — disconnected from myself, my joy, and my truth.

The more I studied, the clearer it became:
You can’t heal a body that you’re at war with.

I had to stop fighting my body and start listening to it.
I had to stop seeing myself as broken and start seeing myself as becoming.

The Turning Point

That night in the nursery was the beginning of a promise — one I’ve kept. I would no longer hand over my power or my hope. I would walk beside God, letting faith guide my research, my nutrition, my mindset, and my energy.

Healing wasn’t instant. It was raw and real. It meant facing the deepest parts of myself — my fear, my shame, my buried pain.

I realized healing wasn’t about “fixing” myself.
It was about remembering who I was before the world told me otherwise.

For You

Maybe you’re there right now — standing in your own quiet room, crying out for help.

If so, know this: He hears you.
There is a way through.
Your body, created by divine intelligence, was designed to heal.

This blog is where I’ll keep sharing the truths, tools, and transformations that brought me back to life — so you can start finding your own way home too.

Healing begins the moment you invite God in and believe in what’s possible.