Finding Myself Again

A journey through illness, womanhood, and becoming.

I’ve carried this story quietly for a long time. Not because I wanted to hide it, but because I wasn’t ready to give it words. Healing has a way of revealing who we are beneath everything we do — and this chapter of my life taught me more about womanhood, resilience, and self-connection than I ever knew before. Today, I’m finally ready to share it.

My Story

Seven years ago, life cracked open in a way I never expected. I was 38 — a mum to a baby, a teenager, and a young adult — holding our family together while my husband served in the navy. Though he wasn’t away at sea at that time, the rhythm of military life meant years of finding balance while he was gone for long stretches, then finding it again when he returned.

When breast cancer arrived, that old strength — the one built from years of “keep calm and carry on” — came out in full force. Between hospital corridors and bedtime stories, I learned to live one breath at a time. I went through surgery, chemotherapy, radiotherapy and hormone therapy, all while maintaining a sense of normality for my children and trying to be the anchor of our home.

When your main support is away for months at a time, you learn how to hold life with both hands — the love, the responsibility, the rhythm of home. Being that grounding presence for my family felt natural to me, something I genuinely cherished. And yet, even with all the love woven through it, there was a lot I carried quietly. Those tender; resilient coping patterns became the ones that I leaned on when illness came.

Two years after finishing hormone therapy, my body spoke again. I’d been asking for help for months as strange, frightening symptoms appeared, but I was told it was nothing. Eventually, an emergency MRI revealed a benign tumour and a sack of fluid the size of a lemon pressing on my brain. Within days, I was in surgery. Then another hospital stay. Then recovery — again.

But this time, those old coping strategies didn’t work. “Head down and carry on” had no place in brain surgery recovery. I had to surrender. To stop surviving and start listening. Healing became an invitation to presence — to feel, to rest, to soften, to receive.

Now, at 45, I look back and see a woman who has walked through fire and learned to find stillness within it. This journey has been lonely, humbling, and sacred all at once. But through it, I’ve learned that healing isn’t about returning to who you were before — it’s about becoming the woman your soul always knew you could be.

I’m still finding my way, still learning to hear my body’s whispers before they become screams. But I’m here — present, softer, wiser, and deeply grateful.

To any woman walking through her own storm — please know this: You are not broken. You are becoming.

Thank you for holding space for my words. This journey has shaped every part of who I am today — as a woman, a mother, and a practitioner. It taught me to listen deeply, to soften where I once braced, and to honour the quiet wisdom within my own body. If any part of my story touches something inside you, please know you don’t have to walk your path alone. You are welcome here, just as you are.

Why I’m Sharing This Now

I’m sharing this now because my work is evolving, and I want women to understand the heart that guides it. My lived experience — the illness, the surrender, the rebuilding — is the foundation of the space I now hold for others. As my business grows into deeper embodiment coaching, energy healing, counselling, and mind–body connection work, it feels important to share where that passion was born. This story is how I found my way home to myself, and that journey is woven into the heart of the work I share with others.

From Fear to Compassion: How My Healing Journey Shapes the Work I Do

🐞A gentle path from fear to love—nurturing fertility and women’s healing through compassion

Throughout my breast cancer treatment, I was given countless medical figures, predictions, and outcomes. I remember being prepared for the worst-case scenarios—being told what devastation could unfold. I was also given glimmers of positive news, but in those moments my mind could rarely hold on to them.

At that time, I had two teenagers and an 18-month-old baby. The fear of leaving my husband and children was overwhelming. It was so heavy that a numbness crept in—a protective shield against emotions too big to face.

And yet, somewhere deep within me, I could still feel the remnants of who I once was—the strong, fearless woman I had always known. That part of me whispered a powerful reminder: “They don’t know me. They don’t know what I am capable of.”

This realisation changed everything.

My desire to survive opened up in a new way. Not by going to war with cancer. Not by fighting against my body. Instead, I began to soften. I learned to love myself in a way I never had before.

🌸I discovered compassion.

🌸I discovered surrender.

🌸I discovered what it means to feel strong while remaining open to possibility.

It was no longer about pushing, battling, or forcing. It was about holding myself tenderly—trusting that gentleness could be just as powerful as grit. In fact, it became my greatest source of strength.

This experience has profoundly shaped the way I work with women today. So often, women come to me feeling disconnected from their bodies—whether through fertility struggles, pregnancy trauma, or the emotional weight of waiting and hoping. The body can feel like it has let them down, and the mind can become trapped in cycles of fear and doubt.

What I bring to this work is not just a set of skills and therapies. I bring a lived experience of what it means to walk through fear, to surrender control, and to discover compassion as the doorway to resilience.

Through reproductive reflexology, trauma release, reiki, and embodiment coaching, I support women to reconnect with their bodies, not through force or demand, but through gentleness, trust, and compassion.

Because true strength is not always about pushing harder—it is often about softening, opening, and learning to hold ourselves with love.

✨ This is where healing begins.

✨ This is where fertility flourishes.

✨ And this is where you can begin to feel at home in your body again.

May your journey be held in softness and hope,

Bethan xx

The Longing We Don't Speak About: Trusting the Wisdom of the Body

The Quiet Longing for Another Baby: Trusting the Wisdom of the Body

I understand the longing for another baby. I understand the confusion that comes with it too—the inner conflict that whispers,

"Shouldn't I just be grateful?"

I was already a proud mother of two beautiful, healthy children. They filled my heart, gave my life purpose, and brought me immeasurable joy. So where did this deep ache for another baby come from?

After my miscarriage, I carried a quiet emptiness. A whisper that echoed in my heart: "There should’ve been another one." And yet, the longing I felt went beyond grief. It was visceral. Urgent. As though my body knew something I didn’t. As though time was slipping through my fingers, and I was racing against it.

Month after month, I cycled through hope and heartbreak. I grieved. I envied. I yearned. My arms ached to hold a baby, my body ached to carry one. This was more than a passing desire—it was my body communicating something sacred. A knowing. A message. A form of body wisdom that defied logic.

I was 35, and this journey stretched across a couple of years—years filled with circumstantial delays, physical challenges, and emotional unravelling. Then, at 37, I welcomed my baby girl.

Motherhood After 35: A New Chapter

Having already experienced new motherhood twice, I thought I’d feel confident. But instead, I felt completely lost. There was a 15-year gap between my eldest daughter and my new born—and 18 years between my son and her.

I wasn’t prepared for the identity shift. For the way I no longer recognised myself. I was navigating the worlds of a teenager and infancy all at once—trying to be present for everyone, and yet losing the sacred spaces I once held for myself.

Amidst the love and wonder of my new baby, I felt lost. My sense of self faded beneath the constant giving. I tried to ground myself, to reconnect with the familiar parts of me, and gently meet the new parts that were forming.

When Illness Awakens a Deeper Wisdom

Then came my breast cancer diagnosis.

It was terrifying. The thought of leaving my children—regardless of their age—shook me to my core. My cancer was oestrogen-fed, which meant hormone therapy. Forced menopause. No more cycles. No more conception. No certainty about what the future held.

Looking back now, I realise: if I hadn't followed that urgency within me… if I hadn’t honoured that deep longing for another child… my daughter might never have come into this world.

My body had been speaking to me all along. Whispering. Nudging. Urging. It knew something was coming. It knew time was running out.

Trusting the Wisdom of the Body

And that is the message I want to share.

Our bodies are always communicating with us. Whether it's a yearning, a symptom, a shift in energy or a sudden knowing—these aren't random. They’re wisdom. Guidance. A call back home to ourselves.

We so often override or ignore these messages. We disconnect. We tell ourselves to “get on with it” or feel guilty for wanting more. But the truth is—your body is not working against you. It is the most sacred relationship you will ever have.

Honouring Your Sacred Feminine Wisdom

There are many chapters to my story—many more moments where my body has spoken and I’ve either listened or learned the hard way. I’ll share those another time.

But for now, I’ll leave you with this:

✨ Honour your body.✨ Listen when it speaks.✨ Trust its wisdom.

It always, always knows.

🌿 If You’re Feeling This Longing Too…

Whether you're navigating fertility after 35, healing from miscarriage, or feeling the pull of your body's intuitive wisdom—I see you. You're not alone. If you're longing to reconnect with your body and trust its sacred messages again, reach out or explore my 1:1 fertility and embodiment support.

Your longing matters. Your story matters. And your body… already knows the way.