I don’t have journal prompts for you today.
No “action steps” to implement.
No seven-point checklist for spiritual awakening.

Just this moment.
Just me, sitting in the quiet awe of my life.

I am moments away from becoming a mother.
And somehow—through all the unknowns, all the ache, all the holy unraveling—I feel calm.

It doesn’t make logical sense.
I had planned for a serene, at-home birth in the jungle… but life had other plans.

Now, I’m preparing to give birth here in the States—and honestly? I’m still not sure how it will unfold.

Maybe at home. Maybe in a hospital. Maybe I’ll ride the waves as long as I can and give birth in the car, wild-woman style 😅

And yet, there’s a deep trust holding me.

No matter where it happens, I know it will be holy.

Me, my breath, my body, and the sacred rhythm of this little soul choosing her moment to arrive.

It won’t be perfect. But it will be powerful.

Am I scared?
Sure. If I let myself go there.
But what lives louder in my body is this deep, steady knowing:
I was made for this.

Not just made to give birth—but made to feel this alive.

The chaos, the brutal grief, the sleepless nights I spent pouring my soul into The Embodied Warrior—all of it was preparation.
The heartbreak. The self-doubt. The pressure to prove myself without a trust fund, or the life insurance of my deceased dad (yes—people have actually said that’s how I’ve done this).
The sacrifices. The thousand quiet moments of choosing to keep going when no one was watching.

They built something in me.

Something unshakable.

Something ancient.

Something that whispers, “You are ready.”

This life I’ve created didn’t come with a map.
It didn’t come from playing it safe or following the adult rule book.
It came from jumping off cliff after cliff—full speed ahead—into the unknown.

And now here I am. 37 years old.
On the cusp of motherhood.
A proud business owner.
And someone who has actually built a life she loves.

Like, truly loves.

Yes, a lot of it was on my vision board.
But so much more… the wild, beautiful parts?
The things I couldn’t have dreamed up?
They came from saying “yes” to the hard parts.
The uncertain parts. The parts where most people turn around.

And here’s what I know:

We don’t arrive at joy by avoiding pain.
We don’t find meaning by bypassing the mess.
And we sure as hell don’t find ourselves by staying small or waiting for permission.

Standing here, belly full and heart wide open, I know this to be true:

You don’t have to know what comes next to trust yourself.
You don’t need to see the whole staircase to take the next leap.
And when life calls you into the fire—it’s because you’re ready to rise from it.

This season is surreal.
Tender. Sacred.
Full of more love than I knew my body could hold.

And I just wanted to let you in.

No shiny bow. No teachable moment.
Just me—standing at the edge of something big,
And choosing, once again, to leap.

To my daughter: I can’t wait to show you what’s possible.

To my partner: Thank you for seeing all of me.

To you—yes, you reading this—thank you for being a part of this journey.

May this post bring you whatever it is you need most today.

A breath. A pause. A spark of belief.

I’ll be back soon, with a new name stitched into my soul: Mama.

But I’ll always be here, leaping into life with you.

With so much love,
Megan