Hillary

Last summer, my life changed in an instant. I was a backseat passenger in a catastrophic collision with a semi-truck that left me with a severe traumatic brain injury. Miraculously, I was revived several times, intubated, and remained on a ventilator in a coma. Unbeknownst to me, I also lost my cousin, who was like a second mother to me. She had been sitting beside me and died in the crash.

Before my injury, I was a clinical mental health counselor who had just given birth to my second baby. I practically went from the maternity ward to the ICU. My son was only 6 months old, and my daughter turned 2 while I was in a coma.

Hospital staff had to wean me off breastfeeding with hospital-grade pumps while I was still unconscious. Thankfully, my children were with my husband when the accident happened. I know they likely would not have survived what I went through.

Today, less than a year later, I am learning to navigate life with an invisible disability while rebuilding my life one day—sometimes one hour—at a time.

Every day, recovery asks something different of me, and many of the hardest challenges are invisible to everyone else. Yet I’ve learned that hope doesn’t require having all the answers—it grows each time we choose to keep moving forward. This is truly my second chance at living, and I’m not slowing down.