Daily support for tender times.

In Bloom wasn’t created from theory alone.
It was born from lived experience.

Before I was a perinatal mental health therapist, I was someone quietly navigating infertility. I know the ache of negative tests. The waiting. The way hope can feel both fragile and consuming.

I’ve experienced pregnancy loss, the kind that changes you in ways that are hard to explain. The kind where the world keeps moving, even when yours feels paused.

I’ve sat beside a NICU bed, learning a language I never wanted to know. Monitors. Numbers. Feeding tubes. The constant hum of fear mixed with overwhelming love.

I’ve navigated postpartum OCD, intrusive thoughts that felt terrifying and isolating, even as I understood them clinically. Knowing the diagnosis doesn’t make you immune to the experience.

And through all of it, I became acutely aware of the gaps in women’s healthcare, how often concerns are dismissed, how under-researched maternal mental health still is, and how much self-advocacy this season requires.

As a therapist, I’ve held space for so many families walking similar paths. As a mother and human, I’ve walked some of them myself. The overlap between those two roles is where In Bloom began.

I created this space because I know:

How lonely infertility can feel.
How invisible loss can be.
How consuming NICU life is.
How scary postpartum anxiety and OCD can become.
How complicated it is to hold gratitude and grief at the same time.

In Bloom is the support I wished existed in my own middle-of-the-night moments. Something gentle. Something steady. Something that didn’t try to rush me out of what I was feeling.

This space is built on the belief that your experience, whatever it looks like, deserves care.

Not fixing.
Not minimizing.
Not silver linings.

Just care.

If you’re here because this season feels heavier than you expected, I see you.

And I’m so glad you found your way here.

— Courtney