My Birth Stories: From Marvel to Motherhood

“If someone had told me how my births would unfold, I would’ve chosen a tightrope at a circus instead.”

My births were nothing short of a rollercoaster—each one transformational in ways I never saw coming. If someone had told me what was ahead, I probably wouldn’t have believed them. And if I had believed them, I might have asked for a tamer ride through motherhood.

Heroes, Yoga & Pregnancy

Back then, I was working as an in-house artist at Marvel Entertainment. Life felt light—full of creativity, yoga three times a week, and dreams of the future.

When my husband and I discovered we were pregnant with our daughter, it felt like a Christmas wish granted just weeks after the holiday. We were thrilled. But soon, joy was joined by fear. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

Growing up in Italy, my mother had given birth in a hospital. But my grandmothers? They birthed at home, surrounded by family, without complication—at least from what I’d been told. That contrast lived inside me as I made my own decision.

I chose a compromise: a hospital birth with midwifery care at UCLA Santa Monica. I also hired an Italian doula for added support.

My First Birth – And Its Storm

Nothing prepared me for what unfolded.

After four days of prodromal labor, I found myself swept into a cascade of interventions, ending in an unplanned cesarean—something I never imagined, never wanted. I spent months in a haze—grieving, blaming myself, and trying to love through the fog.

The postpartum period was hard. I was deep in self-blame, shock, and exhaustion, all while trying to pour love into my daughter. I felt like I had failed her.

Loss and a New Path

When I became pregnant again, I didn’t feel joyful—I felt afraid.

When I miscarried, it confirmed my fears and left me feeling like I’d failed once more. But out of that pain came something unexpected: a shift in direction. That’s when I met Dr. Stu, and discovered the world of home birth. Learning about home midwifery care was like finding a missing puzzle piece.

A Living Room Victory

My third pregnancy brought my son—born at home, in our living room.

I was sitting on my husband’s lap. My three-year-old daughter was beside us. Our midwife Molly was there to guide the moment. And our son arrived peacefully into our hands. It was the biggest triumph of my life—to birth how, where, and with whom I’d always dreamed.

I was seen, supported, and in control. That birth began to heal the pieces that had been fractured.

Birth Plans and Curve balls

We assumed birth number three would follow that same path. But life had other plans.

That pregnancy ended in another hospital transfer and another cesarean. In the birth world, some call this a “homebirth cesarean”—a strange mix of intentions and outcomes.

I tried again with my fourth birth. Another hopeful attempt, another transfer. But this time, after three days of recovery, I experienced internal bleeding and was rushed back to the OR. A cherry on top I never wanted.

Becoming a Doula

As heartbreaking as those experiences were, they changed the course of my life. Without those births, I don’t think I would’ve become a doula. They forced me to slow down, to tune in, and to parent my children with presence. They taught me resilience, compassion, and how to hold space for others.

Attending births has become my redemption. Each time I witness a mother stepping into her power, I feel it in my bones. And when births take unexpected turns, I know how to show up—with softness, steadiness, and deep empathy.

“I made it my mission to love my children hard and furious, and to show up for other mothers with that same fierce love.”

It was because of them—my children—that I chose to walk away from my career in the movie industry. I fell so deeply in love with them that nothing else compared. Not even Robert Downey Jr!

Being with them, mothering them, watching them grow—it became the greatest creative work of my life.Birth is never one-size-fits-all. It’s raw, wild, unpredictable—and sacred. My story isn’t wrapped in a neat bow, but it’s mine. Every birth I’ve had has made me the mother, artist, and doula I am today.

If you’re on your own birth journey—whether it’s your first or your fourth—I hope you know this:

You are allowed to grieve. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to rise.