The Silent Struggles Behind My Transformation
When people look at my transformation today, they may see the weight I lost, the fitness classes I completed, or the Aquabike instructor I became. What they don’t see are the years before it—the infertility treatments, the pregnancy loss, the grief of losing my mother, the emotional exhaustion that slowly changed how I saw myself. My transformation started long before anyone could see a physical difference.
The Years Nobody Saw
In 2015, I was diagnosed with infertility and told I would likely never conceive naturally. I began IVF and spent years trying to become a mother—more than 20 medical procedures in the early years, plus surgeries and hormone medications, each with its own physical, emotional, and financial cost.
In 2019, I became pregnant through IVF—a baby girl, due in January 2020. At nine weeks, we learned there was no heartbeat. I lost my baby, and that was incredibly painful. I continued IVF for another three years.
At the same time, I was carrying another major loss: in 2017, I lost my mother to heart disease. The combination of infertility, pregnancy loss, grief, and years of medical treatments became difficult to carry—things happening inside me that other people simply couldn’t see.
When I Realized I Needed to Change
After years of focusing on becoming a mother, I reached a point where I knew I needed to focus on myself. On November 27, 2022, I decided to start making changes. I couldn’t change the past or undo the losses—but I could decide how to take care of myself moving forward.
I started working with a dietitian, learning about my relationship with food and my mindset, and completed a 28-day medically monitored program that helped me change my nutrition. It wasn’t about fixing everything overnight—it was about learning to make healthier choices and becoming more aware of what I needed.
Learning to Show Up
In January 2023, I joined EOS Fitness and began working with a personal trainer once a week. I didn’t love every workout, and some days I struggled and didn’t want to be there. But I kept showing up. That taught me something important: progress doesn’t require perfection—sometimes it simply means doing something difficult even when you don’t feel like it.
Then, in May 2023, I discovered Aquabike. I began attending classes three to four times a week alongside my nutrition work. After 90 days, I had dropped two clothing sizes, but the changes weren’t limited to my appearance—my mood, sleep, energy, and outlook began to change. And I found a community that made the journey feel less lonely.
Finding Support in Unexpected Places
I became part of what I called my “gym squad.” We encouraged, supported, and celebrated progress together. That community became an important part of my experience. I was still dealing with things from my past, but I was no longer letting those experiences completely determine what came next—I was learning that taking care of myself could be part of moving forward.
Becoming Someone I Never Expected to Be
Eventually, my fitness journey took me somewhere I never imagined. I became a fitness instructor and earned my Aquabike certification—the person who had once struggled to make it through a workout was now helping lead others through one. That moment meant far more than earning a certification; it showed me how much could change when I kept taking small steps.
My journey wasn’t perfect. I still had difficult days, still had grief, still needed time to process everything I’d experienced. But I had also developed strength, consistency, and a renewed sense of purpose.
The Transformation Behind the Transformation
On November 27, 2022, I weighed 195 pounds. Three years later, on November 27, 2025, I weighed 125 pounds. I’m proud of that physical change, but the number on the scale doesn’t tell the whole story—the bigger transformation happened inside me.
I learned to take care of myself again. I learned that consistency matters, and that difficult experiences don’t have to define every chapter that follows. And I learned that healing and moving forward can happen at the same time.
People may see the person I am today and call it a transformation. I see all the quiet decisions behind it: the days I showed up when I didn’t want to, the moments when I chose to keep going, the support I accepted from people around me, the willingness to start again. Those are the parts of my transformation that aren’t always visible. But they are the parts that built it.
If you’re working through your own difficult season, remember that progress doesn’t always look dramatic. Start where you are, take one manageable step, and give yourself time to build from there.
