Hi, I’m Meaghan.

A few years ago, I found myself in a situation I never would have seen coming. I was a new mom and going through a divorce with a newborn baby girl. My daughter, Sydney, was very soon splitting time between two houses, and the quietness of my house was almost too loud to bear. If you’ve ever lived with a newborn or a toddler, you might know what I mean.

I didn’t know what to do with myself when she was gone, but I felt like I was faced with a choice… I could spiral into anxiety, or I could fill that time working on bettering myself somehow so that I could be a better mom to Sydney when she came back home. I knew she deserved that, but the path to bettering yourself is not always crystal clear. I just knew I couldn’t sit and do nothing.

This is how I found sourdough. I was gifted a starter that I let die (oops). Then decided to start my own starter on a whim—and she’s actually pretty resilient. Maybe it was the maternal instinct in me, but I started enjoying feeding and taking care of her. She started to thrive, and I later realized that this was how I began taking care of myself again, too.

Bread is funny. It asks for attention, but it rewards patience. It can’t be rushed, or faked and baking slowly became a part of my week that was just mine. It was a version of therapy.

It wasn’t until a few months into this that my mom casually dropped that my grandmother had also been a baker. Bread, pastries, she made it all. And I unknowingly had been using her rolling pin the whole time. It’s hard to explain, but it almost felt like this was some kind of gift that she had passed down to me. Her love for baking was given to me as a way of healing. The same way I wanted to be there for Sydney when she wasn’t with me, I felt like this was her version of that for me.

A Little More About Me

I work as an electrophysiology nurse practitioner, as well as a cosmetic injector on the side (I know- I also don’t know how I have time for all of this). I love working in medicine. It’s meaningful. I get to take care of people during some of the hardest seasons of life, and as much as I love getting to do that- it can be heavy. I also love the science aspect of medicine, which I think is another reason I love to bake.

Baking is also science. Hydration ratios, fermentation times, how the weather changes the dough, how stretch and folds build strength. I love that it is rigorous in its own way, and that it asks something completely different of me than medicine does.

What surprised me the most was how much I love the art of it all, though. It’s unlocked this side of myself I didn’t even realize was there. I could get lost in time making these pastries pretty, or decorating cakes for my friends’ kids’ birthday parties. Watching people enjoy something I created while celebrating the joys of life has been so special to me.

The most special part of it though has been seeing how much my daughter loves it, too. I hadn’t even thought about this being something I could do with Sydney, but it’s become one of our favorite things to do together. She has her own little stool, her apron, and VERY strong opinions about how to roll the dough and sprinkle flour. It makes the time we have together even sweeter, and the time we are apart something that still feels meaningful.

If you’ve made it this far—thank you. And if my story is something you can relate to, then I want you to know that hard seasons don’t have to be the end of your story. A lot of life can spring from hitting rock bottom, and grief does not have a timeline. Whatever quiet you’re sitting in right now- I see you. Stay hopeful, patient and curious. I promise you are not alone.