When I first stepped into an acupuncture clinic, I was just another woman at the beginning of her fertility journey. I was filled with questions, quietly hopeful, and completely unaware of the path that lay ahead. I couldn’t have imagined that years later, I’d be the one holding the needles, sitting across from women just like me. But that’s exactly where I am now. I’m an acupuncturist, surrounded daily by the incredible stories of women who, like me, have found strength in community and healing through connection. What started as a search for healing became a calling, and eventually, a profession rooted deeply in sisterhood and solidarity.
I began my studies in acupuncture with a personal goal in mind: to understand my body better, to support my fertility, and to try something that felt a little closer to the heart than what conventional medicine had offered me so far. I had no idea that I was about to become my own case study, experiencing the full spectrum of what it means to be a woman navigating conception, pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. And I did all of it while in acupuncture school.
There’s something beautifully ironic about spending your perinatal years studying the medicine you’re using to support your perinatal years. As I studied meridians and needle techniques, I was also charting cycles and trying herbal formulas. I learned point prescriptions for morning sickness while battling my own waves of nausea. I practised labour induction protocols on classmates by day and used them on myself when my own baby was ready to come earthside. Every lesson was both academic and deeply personal. I lived the textbook.
Walking the Journey with My Patients
When I think about the women I treat today in my Edmonton clinics, I do not just see patients. I see sisters. I have sat in the same waiting rooms. I have held the same fears. I have clung to the same hope. This shared experience is what grounds my practice and shapes the way I hold space for every woman who walks through my door.
I understand what it means to feel out of sync with your cycle, to grieve a negative pregnancy test, to lose a pregnancy, and to feel the weight of postpartum depletion when the world tells you to bounce back. Acupuncture has been a powerful tool not just for healing, but for reclaiming agency. It offers women a space to reconnect with their bodies, their rhythms, and their strength.
And because I’ve used every treatment I recommend: fertility support, labour preparation, hormone balancing, I can offer more than technical knowledge. I can offer lived empathy.
What continues to surprise me is how often healing begins with the simple act of being heard. Many of the women I see have carried their pain in silence for years, believing they had to tough it out. In my clinic, they find a safe space to share their stories, where no symptom is too small to explore, and where the goal is not just to fix, but to understand and empower. This is care that honours both science and story.
A Community of Care
Building this practice in Edmonton has been about more than medicine. It’s been about building a community. A space where stories are shared freely, where women support women, and where each appointment is more than just a treatment. It’s an act of sisterhood.
If there’s one thing this journey has taught me, it’s that we are never alone in our struggles. Our bodies may be unique, but our stories often rhyme. And in that resonance, we find strength. In choosing this path, I didn’t just find a profession. I found my purpose. And in every woman I help, I’m reminded of the woman I was when I started. Still hopeful. Still learning. Still standing in solidarity with every sister who is walking the path beside me.
Over time, this work has also helped me redefine what success looks like. It’s no longer about outcomes alone. Yes, it’s beautiful to celebrate positive pregnancy tests or smooth postpartum recoveries. But I’ve learned to honour the quieter wins too, like the woman who finally sleeps through the night, or the one who walks in with fewer fears than the week before. These moments, though small, are where transformation takes root.
Healing through Connection
In the quiet of my treatment room, I hear stories. I hold space for grief, joy, fear, and transformation. Sisterhood isn’t always about blood. It’s about presence, support, and the gentle power of being seen. It’s about saying, “Me too,” and meaning it.
Acupuncture, to me, is more than an ancient practice. It’s a modern form of solidarity. A needle placed not just to relieve pain, but to say: You are not alone. You are healing. You are whole.
And if I can offer even a fraction of the compassion that was given to me, then I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
