My alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. and I had barely slept. The excitement and anxiety about accepting my first postpartum modeling job at the age of 33 seemed overwhelming. I could feel a knot growing in my stomach as I realized that I was about to put my 16-week postpartum body on display in a skimpy bikini on national television. And this wasn’t just any modeling job. This was a live segment on “Access Hollywood” with Heidi Klum showcasing her new swimwear line.
In addition, I was breastfeeding at the time and requested to bring my infant son, George. When I got there, I worried about the size of my breasts fluctuating from hour to hour. I worried that George might cry and disrupt the production. I worried that my size 14 body would look squishy, bloated and unflattering in front of millions of viewers. Even as I sat in the green room getting my hair and makeup done, I felt full of anxiety.
I looked around at the other models, all a decade younger than me and several sizes smaller. I started to question if I belonged there. A curve model for more than 10 years, it surprised me that motherhood made me feel so out of place.
The truth was that I had every right to be there. I loved my work. Since 2009, I had tirelessly built my reputation as a well-known and respected curve model in a cut-throat industry. I regularly worked for major brands like Target, Kohl’ and Hanes. I landed the covers of Women’s Running Magazine and Weight Watchers. I was even the first curve model to work for Frederick’s of Hollywood.
But the sheer act of becoming a mom changed my perspective. In that moment on set, I realized how much other women and mothers needed to see bodies like mine … rolls, wrinkles, cellulite and all. As squeamish as I felt at the time, I’m now incredibly grateful for the experience because it empowered me to realize my potential.
I must be honest though, the first months after giving birth were brutal. After George was born, I had postpartum anxiety and intense feelings of identity loss. The sleep deprivation and difficulties breastfeeding were crushing. Not only was I struggling with the new responsibilities of motherhood, but I was deeply concerned that my career might very well be over.
I saw other models vanish from the industry when they became mothers. I wondered how soon they would expect me to be in the same dress and bra size again. I wondered if they would accept my new “flaws.” I wondered how I would be able to provide for my family if my agency dropped me and clients stopped booking me.
I lost myself in motherhood in the first 18 months of George’s life. I let my fears and anxieties get the best of me. I was still periodically getting job offers during that time, but my determination and drive to succeed burned out.
Ultimately, I chose to pause and focus on my family. I needed time and space to determine what I wanted. We moved from Los Angeles to a small Texas town for my husband’s work and my agency dropped me, as I feared they would.
Nevertheless, what I found during that time was priceless: growth and purpose. I realized just how much I truly loved modeling, but also how much I missed writing. I realized I could empower mothers by not only persevering as a model in an industry with outdated beauty standards, but I could also write about what the motherhood journey has meant to me. With that, the foundation for my first book emerged.








