It feels surreal to be writing these words, to share a glimpse into the reality that has become our world these past two months. Life as we knew it took an abrupt and devastating turn when our sweet baby Isabella received her diagnosis: acute myeloid leukemia (AML).

In an instant, our family’s landscape shifted entirely. My work life is on hold as I’ve taken family leave to be fully present for Isabella’s care. My husband, David, has transitioned his therapy clients and is balancing part-time work with his pediatrics patients. Even our beloved dog, Jessie, is being lovingly cared for by wonderful people, a small comfort in this overwhelming time. And us? We’ve essentially moved into a hospital room, our days now defined by medical treatments, beeping machines, and the remarkable strength of our little girl.

As I navigate this uncharted territory, a powerful metaphor from Dr. Peter Levine, often shared in my somatic trauma work, keeps resurfacing: The River of Life. It feels particularly poignant now.

The essence of somatic healing, as I understand it, is to expand our capacity to be fully present with life – in all its messy, beautiful, and sometimes terrifying forms. It’s about cultivating a nervous system that can experience more aliveness, vitality, and resilience in the face of stress. When this is coupled with a deep connection to something larger than ourselves, it creates a potent foundation for a meaningful and courageous life.

Imagine life as a flowing river, and our Soma – our living body in its wholeness – as the container holding it. A wide riverbank and deep riverbed allow life to flow through us without overwhelming us, without trapping us in the undertow of trauma responses. Conversely, a narrow, shallow river struggles to contain the current, leading to potential damage and curbing our ability to take in more of life .

I’ve learnt that widening our riverbanks and deepening our riverbed requires a willingness to engage in profound inner work. This isn’t just about intellectual understanding; it involves feeling our emotions, intuition, our senses, our desires, and even tapping into a deeper spiritual wisdom.

So, how do we expand our capacity to hold more of life?

From my own journey and work, it’s about embracing all facets of our being.

We must be open to questioning our ingrained patterns and beliefs, allowing our minds to be flexible and receptive to new perspectives.

Our bodies, with their sensations, emotions, impulses, and energetic shifts, require intentional attention, unlocking a deeper wellspring of wisdom and potential.

And our spirituality, in whatever form resonates – be it religious or a personal connection to something sacred – serves as a constant reminder of our inherent worthiness and belonging, a return to the heart of love.

My own life has been a relentless pursuit of self-understanding and healing, driven by the unwavering belief that life, despite its challenges, is inherently good and meaningful. This has led me down countless paths of therapy, holistic healing practices, and spiritual exploration. All this work, all this widening and deepening, has equipped me with a greater capacity to navigate life with presence and courage, to embrace change, and to live more authentically. It has also helped me build community, develop meaningiful relationships and open my heart to others.

Now, as we navigate the turbulent waters of Isabella’s healing journey, I find myself drawing on this inner strength and stability. I am open to the full spectrum of emotions that arise – the tears, the anger, the grief for the life we envisioned.

Yet, amidst the pain, there is also profound gratitude. Gratitude for the unwavering support we’ve received, for the dignity and love that surrounds us, for the countless acts of kindness, both big and small.

And then there is Isabella herself. Each smile, each moment of playfulness, each sign of her vibrant spirit fuels our hope. We celebrate every small victory, every indication that the treatment is working, that she is healing, that we are moving closer to a cure. David and I, though often exhausted and emotionally stretched, are holding each other strong, our devotion unwavering. This, in its entirety, is life, isn’t it?

I truly believe that the personal and interpersonal work we’ve done has been instrumental in our ability to navigate this experience with this degree of presence and resilience. I’ve been intentional about nurturing myself – through walks, sauna, massage, time with friends, and even museum visits. And my spiritual practice has been an unwavering anchor, providing solace and strength amidst the uncertainty. Sitting by my altar, connecting with the Divine Goddess and my ancestors, delving into ancient wisdom, meditating, and moving energy – these practices create space to feel this life, this challenging reality, with an open heart.

I share this not for sympathy, but with the intention to inspire.

To inspire you to continue expanding your own capacity to experience the river of life. To know that the deeper your riverbed, the more fully you can embrace life without being swept away. To believe that even in the face of unimaginable hardship, like your child being diagnosed with leukemia, it is possible to find strength, hope, and presence. After all, the only way out is through.

Deep in my heart, I have an unwavering trust that Isabella will emerge from this stronger, healthier, and braver. And that our family will gain a profound understanding of the preciousness of life. We still have many months of treatment ahead, and I trust that we will continue to meet it with presence and an open heart.

Your continued prayers, optimism, and well wishes are a source of strength for us. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.