The best part of my day - every day - is bedtime. Something magical happens when my children and I read books together. We bond. We laugh. We dream. And together, we believe.

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I grew up thinking I would be a musician or a journalist. Northwestern University's Radio/TV/Film program in the School of Speech called to me; I dreamed of being the next Barbara Walters.

 

Life, however, scoffed at that plan. For a number of bizarre reasons (some medical, some personal), I graduated and then landed in the University of Louisville’s combined graduate/medical school program. I earned my M.S. in Anatomical Sciences and Neurobiology and completed 4 years of medical school.

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And then I got sick. Really, really sick.

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In 2000, a benign tumor led to a disease called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, also known as Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome. By 2007, neuropathic ulcers punctated my paltry 85-pound frame and weakened my body, forcing me to use a wheelchair. Facing the imminent possibility of death, I left the country to undergo an experimental treatment where doctors induced a ketamine coma to “reboot” my autonomic nervous system. It was a Hail Mary. A last-ditch effort at a saving my life.

 

In 2008, in remission for the first time in seven years, I gave birth to my first child.

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For over twelve years, I worked as a financial consultant for physicians. Then, in the summer of 2015, I left to be a full-time mom. I wanted to feel like I was making a difference in the lives of the most important people in this world… my children and my husband.

 

So I started writing.

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I want my children to grow up in a world where anything can happen. I want dark chocolate to grow on trees, butterflies to drop fairy dust from their wings, and mermaids to invite humans to swim with the dolphins.

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Oh, and I want to live in a world where dishes wash themselves. Because that would be cool.

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