Compassion wasn't our business plan.
It became our life's calling.

On June 23, 2005, I was sitting in the office of an adoption agency in Berthoud, Colorado, with my husband and our two young sons. We were exploring the possibility of adopting a daughter and dreaming about the future of our family.

Then my phone rang.

It was my sister.

Through tears and panic, she delivered words that would change my life forever:

“Mom has suffered a severe stroke and is in the intensive care unit.”

In an instant, everything changed.

My mother survived the stroke, but it left her with significant memory loss and vision impairment. The woman who had spent her life caring for others could no longer safely live on her own.

My family suddenly found ourselves facing decisions we were completely unprepared to make.

• How would we care for her?
• Where would she live?
• Who could we trust?
• What resources were available?

Like so many families, we entered a world we knew nothing about.

The weeks and months that followed were among the most difficult of my life. We spent countless hours researching services, interviewing caregivers, speaking with agencies, and trying to navigate a healthcare system that often felt overwhelming and confusing.

We quickly learned that finding quality care was not easy.

Reliable information was scarce. Guidance from others who had walked this path was difficult to find. Every decision carried enormous weight because we knew those decisions would affect the quality of our mother's life.

Despite the challenges, we made a commitment: we would bring Mom home.

For the next nine and a half years, our family cared for her together. We were blessed to find extraordinary caregivers who became part of our extended family. They provided companionship, dignity, comfort, and support that allowed our mother to remain where she wanted to be most—at home.

Those years taught me lessons that no textbook, training program, or business experience ever could.

They taught me patience.

They taught me resilience.

They taught me that great caregiving is about far more than tasks and schedules. It is about preserving dignity, honoring choices, and helping people continue to live meaningful lives despite illness or disability.

When my mother passed away on January 16, 2014, she did so surrounded by love, family, and compassionate caregivers. While losing her was heartbreaking, I was grateful that she was able to spend the final chapter of her life in the comfort and familiarity of home.

I thought that chapter of my caregiving journey had ended.

In many ways, it was only beginning.

Several years before my mother's stroke, my husband had been diagnosed with Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis. My husband has always been my rock, my partner, and one of the most remarkable people I have ever known. He is a visionary entrepreneur, a devoted father, a loving son, brother, friend, and husband whose intelligence, optimism, and determination continue to inspire everyone around him.

Over the years, as his condition progressed and his care needs increased, I witnessed firsthand the challenges, frustrations, fears, and uncertainties that so many families face. Yet I also witnessed extraordinary courage, resilience, and grace. Watching him navigate those challenges without allowing his diagnosis to define him deepened my understanding of what it truly means to be both a caregiver and an advocate.

Together, these experiences shaped my vision for what the continuum of care at home should look like—supporting individuals and families with compassion, dignity, and expertise through every stage of their journey.

Anova Care was born from that vision.

I wanted families to have the support I wish had existed when our journey began. I wanted them to have a trusted guide, a compassionate partner, and a team that genuinely understands the emotional, physical, and practical challenges of caring for a loved one.

At Anova Care, our mission is deeply personal.

Every family we serve reminds me of my own family. Every client reminds me of my mother. Every caregiver reminds me of the remarkable people who helped us through some of life's most difficult moments.

My goal is simple:

To help every individual live with dignity, independence, comfort, and purpose in the place they call home.

Because home is more than a place.

It's where life happens.

It's where memories are made.

And it's where people deserve the opportunity to thrive.