Training Days, Sleepless Nights
When Yoni and I packed our lives and moved to the Netherlands in late 1995, it wasn’t for the tulips, the cheese, or even the canals.
Nope—it was for four intense years of therapist training Yoni was about to embark on at the Humaniversity.
And just like that, I became the designated breadwinner of our small but mighty family.
Luckily, the company I worked with in Israel had a centre in Amsterdam. Every six weeks, they used to fly in a trainer from Tel Aviv to run their workshops.
I pitched them a better idea: “How about I run the trainings right here in Amsterdam and save you the cost of flights and hotels?”
Efficient, cost-effective, and full of chutzpah—that’s me.
They loved the idea. But with one small (and wildly illegal) condition: No getting pregnant for the first year.
Yes, I know—my feminist soul cringes too. But we had no other options, so I said yes.
And off we went, landing in Amsterdam in chilly November, with suitcases full of hope and Hebrew accents.
Flash forward to 1996. As soon as Yoni finished his first year of training, I dusted off my long-time dream of becoming a mother and said, “Now.”
And voilà—by September, I was pregnant. On May 1st, 1997, Thom was born, and with her, a brand new chapter of organised chaos and magic.
Meanwhile, the Amsterdam centre I’d built was booming. So booming, in fact, that just weeks after Thom’s birth, I was back leading our signature 5-day trainings.
Now, let me paint you a picture: three days of evening sessions starting at 6 p.m. and ending sometime after midnight (plus team debriefs until 3 a.m.).
Then came the weekend: 12- to 13-hour full-immersion days. I’d leave the house at 4 in the afternoon and return home as the sun was rising.
So, how did I manage a newborn, a breastfeeding schedule, and a full-throttle leadership role?
Cue Yoni—my personal knight in shining armour and a baby sling.
Since day one, we had an agreement: I’d be on baby duty during the day (I’m a morning person), and Yoni would take over at night (he’s a certified night owl).
When my trainings resumed, Yoni would bring tiny Thom to the centre during my breaks so I could breastfeed and soak up every second of cuddles before diving back into the group energy vortex. He also carried her everywhere—on his chest, on his back, probably in his soul.
He was, without question, a walking love pod.
Now, here’s where it gets interesting: Bringing a baby into a personal development training?
Unheard of. Radical. Scandalous, even.
But also… life-changing. Not just for me, but for the entire volunteer team who ran those sessions with me.
Suddenly, motherhood wasn’t something that took you out of leadership—it became part of it.
The women on the team saw living proof that you could be a powerful trainer, run transformational events, and still be a warm, loving, breastfeeding mum.
Thom was like a tiny guru in footie pyjamas. Every time Yoni walked into the assistant room, it was like a celebrity had arrived. The team lit up.
Thom became the mascot, the joy bubble, the living embodiment of “yes, and…”
That time taught me something I’ve carried with me ever since: You don’t have to choose between your purpose and your parenting.
Personal growth doesn’t pause for motherhood, and motherhood doesn’t have to be an obstacle to dreams.
When we eventually left the Essence organisation and launched Open Circles together, this philosophy came with us.
Real life and authentic leadership belong side by side. Diaper bags and flip charts? Perfect combo. Babies and breakthroughs? Yes, please.
And honestly? Thom helped show us all the way.
