Today we’d like to introduce you to Amy Jacobs.
Hi Amy, so excited to have you on the platform. So, before we get into questions about your work life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today.
I grew up in Connecticut and spent my life dancing. When I wasn’t in school, I was dancing. My childhood was…tumultuous to say the least… and movement was my solace. The dance studio was my safe space. Throughout High School, I worked at the studio teaching classes and assisting the Studio Director. Naturally, the next step was to move to NYC for college, where I pursued my BA in Dance Education at Marymount Manhattan College.
NYC quickly stole my heart. I worked my way through college first as a nanny, then teaching dance and gymnastics classes at a high-end children’s enrichment company. It only took me about a year of auditioning and teaching to learn that the pursuit of professional dance was just not for me. My heart was in coaching and instruction. So, while I still studied movement at the Martha Graham and Alvin Ailey schools and continued performing with my company back home in CT, I dove heart first into teaching. I learned to coach rock climbing, sports, and even preschool at the company where I was already leading the dance and gymnastics programs.
From there, my corporate career took off as I grew as a coach. I took my skills to another level when I began managing small teams of teachers – training them to excel in their roles as I continued teaching alongside of them. Over the next 11 years, I would grow into more leadership positions moving from managing teams to managing entire regions and eventually, the entire Talent Department for the company that had grown by that point to over 15 locations and 500 employees. I developed and oversaw the entire process of engagement for an employee – from recruitment to ongoing professional development – at every level of the organization from maintenance staff to CFO. Along the way, I gathered and fine-tuned my skills as a teacher, trainer, and coach.
I did take a brief hiatus during those 11 years when my husband and I got married, about 8 years into my tenure with the company. When we returned from our honeymoon, we both felt the itch for change. We’d been visiting friends in DC for years and decided it was time for a new adventure. We quit our jobs, packed up our lives, and moved. We both decided that this was our opportunity to pursue passions that had been sitting on our heart – for my husband it was real estate. For me, it was fitness. He went and got his real estate license, and I got a job working at lululemon, earned my CPT, and got certified as a Pure Barre instructor. We dove into our first year of marriage which, as anyone will tell you, is challenging in and of itself. Add to that two brand new careers taken on by two naive people who severely overestimated how simple it would be to step into these new fields and we were STRUGGLING. The truth is that our marriage barely survived the year. Business didn’t build at the rate that we thought it would, we couldn’t make ends meet let alone enjoy the new city we had moved to. It was one of our hardest years together financially and emotionally, but we had each ignited a spark inside of us career-wise. I LOVED teaching group fitness, living my life in lululemon athletic wear, and being surrounded by people pursuing big dreams and exploring health in new ways. Movement had always been a part of my life, and THIS was opening me up to a whole world in which I could MAKE it my life.
But finances pushed us back to NYC. My old company offered me a job back, and I took it. I went back into the corporate world but brought fitness with me. I’d go for runs around battery park city on my lunch breaks and cut meetings short to ride the subway to the UWS after work to take Pure Barre classes. I became known for my meal prepping around the office and the go-to for everyone asking what they should eat for lunch. I trained for and ran my first half marathon and completed countless workout programs in the gym, learning to lift weight in all new ways. My husband and I would hit the gym together early in the morning (he had also stepped into fitness and was a trainer at NY Sports Club at the time) swapping philosophies on training methodologies. Our marriage was so much stronger, and it wasn’t long before we were expecting our first baby.
The day that I found out I was pregnant, I promised myself that I was going to stay ‘fit’. Admittedly, I wanted to be one of those cute pregnant women who only looked pregnant when she turned to the side, and you could see the basketball that she was smuggling under her perfect little maternity dress. I saw it every day. The mothers that I worked around all had that look – I watched them bring children into the world and into our locations for years and we admired how fit and fabulous they appeared to be. I wanted to be them. Having danced for most of my life and then turning that passion into a love for fitness I figured I’ve got this. Easy peasy.
A few days after the positive pregnancy test, I was hit with the completely debilitating all-day sickness. It started the moment I woke up in the morning and followed me all over New York City where I was riding the rails between Jersey, Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Queens because I spent a huge portion of my day on the subway commuting between my locations. I got really good at knowing where to position myself on the train so that there would be a garbage can right in front of the doors when they opened that I could throw up in.
The only thing I could tolerate for months was carbs. I lived on New York City bagels and pasta. After long days of commuting, teaching, training, strategizing, coaching and everything else that fell under the umbrella of my position, I commuted about two hours home on more trains and buses. The thought of working out anymore felt like a death sentence – I binged on something sugary to satisfy my physical and emotional fatigue and lounged on the couch in between trips to bury my head in the toilet bowl.
The weight piled on FAST. Even into the second and third trimesters, I really took the whole ‘I’m pregnant, I’ll eat what I want!’ concept to new heights. Fast food, take-out, delivery – anything I once considered an indulgence or cheat meal became everyday life. I gave into every craving and whim in absolute excess. I honestly didn’t even see it happening. In my mind, I was still, well, ME. I was still the former dancer and fitness fanatic. It wasn’t until I saw a picture of myself from a baby shower that was thrown for me that I was hit with the reality of how much I had actually gained. I started dreading going to my regular prenatal check-ups because I knew that the scale was going to terrify me with numbers I’d never even thought possible for myself.
What I didn’t know was all of the other complications that would start to arise. Borderline gestational diabetes. Gestational hypertension. Bed rest. Being monitored weekly for signs of pre-eclampsia which would eventually show and force me into an induced labor and eventual c-section – squashing all of my dreams of a completely natural and unassisted birth.
So now, before even becoming a mother, nothing was going according to plan. Fit and cute pregnancy was a complete joke – I had gained 60 pounds. The beautiful and natural delivery I saw for myself was a total disaster.
Through it all though, she arrived. Our first baby girl, Remy. But as quickly as I heard her cry, I heard the concern in the doctors’ voices. Something was wrong. In my haze, I could barely understand what was happening (I’d labored unmedicated for two days with no progress before giving into the epidural and c-section). Something was wrong with her hand. It was dark. Maybe it was a dead hand, maybe the cord had gotten wrapped around it, maybe burst blood vessels, they didn’t know. But they took her away for testing while I was still splayed open on the operating table.
What would follow would be one of the longest nights of my life. I couldn’t go see her or hold her. I needed to rest and recover, and nothing could be done until the specialists came in the next morning.
Was the hand dead? Would she lose it? Is it just some burst blood vessels and this will all go away?
I sat in the wheelchair, more desperate to just go be with her than anything else, and listened to them tell me that Remy had a congenital melanocytic nevus – essentially a really large birthmark. She also had ‘satellite’ birthmarks all over her body – smaller versions on her elbow, scalp, butt cheek, and groin. But the largest was her hand – a little black glove that would always grow with her.
I looked at these two doctors, women who showed very little empathy or compassion, and asked: “You mean, she’ll always have two different colored hands?” Yes. Yes, she would. And she’d need MRIs in the hospital to ensure none of the cells that caused the birthmark had traveled to her brain and would need to be monitored her whole life for melanoma. I suppose I should have felt relieved that it wasn’t more serious, but I was heartbroken. All I could picture was her future in school or on the playground, getting made fun of for her hand. Her running home to me with tears in her eyes because she was different. I felt that pain deeper than I did any single contraction, the epidural, or the recovery I was currently dealing with. I let my husband wheel me down to her in the NICU with a heavy heart.
But then I held her. Holding her was like holding a piece of myself that had gone missing. We fit together like puzzle pieces and even though I didn’t feel that rush of love that so many other new moms talked about, I felt a fire inside of me. An urge to protect her. To guard her from whatever life would throw her way.
In that moment, my own needs moved to the back of my mind.
I’ve heard it said so many times, in ways far more eloquent than I could ever write myself, that with the birth of a child a mother is also born. A whole new version of a person that was a full-fledged human before she ever brought another one into the world. I remember someone sending me that article when I was pregnant with my first child and thinking to myself “Yeah right. I’ve got this. I’m not going to change. This girl is coming into MY life – not the other way around.”
I should have known…
I should have seen from the moment I got pregnant that I was becoming a whole new version of myself already. And for me, unfortunately, I was dismantling the woman that I had always been brick by brick – and not in a positive way.
The girl who grew up dancing and loved the feeling of constant movement on her body. The college arts student who was convinced she could leap as high and travel as far as the men in her professional dance classes and that being a woman couldn’t stop her. The gymnastics and dance coach who could handle a room full of 2-year-olds in leotards without breaking a sweat. The fitness instructor who prided herself on pushing her clients to their absolute limits while pushing her own right alongside of them. The gym rat who saw someone lifting weights and convinced herself that she could lift heavier. The corporate woman who was always pushing for the next goal, the next position, the next rung on the ladder. That woman was becoming a shadow.
It started early on when the morning sickness crashed over me. I was completely unprepared for what pregnancy would do to my body and I let that become my identity. Pregnancy defined me and I would often think to myself, “I’ll get it all back once she gets here. I just have to get through this.” I was less prepared for the pain and difficulty of recovery. For how little time 12 weeks actually is and how ridiculous the idea of ‘bouncing back’ is in reality.
Then there was this little girl that caught me completely off-guard. Motherhood started to define me in a whole different way. Let’s face it – as new mothers, we are pretty much clueless. Advice is raining down on us from every possible source, so much of it conflicting. We are attempting to recover from everything that our bodies have been put through and battling raging hormones while keeping a tiny human alive on absolutely zero sleep and even less of an understanding as to how. For MONTHS. It’s insane. Add on top of that the emotional toll of handling all of the questions and comments that were flying at me about something that I’d barely wrapped my head around myself:
“What’s wrong with her hand?”
“Can anything be done about it?”
“Maybe it will just go away.”
“My cousin had a birthmark like that, but you can’t really see it anymore.”
“How are you going to handle that?”
“She’s going to have a lot to deal with as she grows up…” (yeah, no shit. Thanks!).
That urge to protect her grew in my gut like the ball of fire that gathers in a dragon’s mouth before she explodes – and I was ready to shoot it at anyone. I felt like all anyone saw when they looked at her – this beautiful little human that I’d created – was her hand. I started keeping it covered with little hand mitts under the pretense that they were there to prevent her from scratching herself. I snapped at anyone who asked about it that “it’s just a birthmark! And she’s beautiful!” even if their intentions were completely pure. They didn’t stand a chance against my fire.
A new identity was falling on me – one of fierce protector – and I wore it with pride. I felt like a superhero, there to defend my daughter against a cruel and judgmental world. And when the time came for me to return to work, I felt confident that I could handle it all. I was super-mom, after all.
I slipped right into working mom mode and back into my busy corporate life. I took all of the bad habits that I’d accumulated during pregnancy and post-partum life with me. I was far too exhausted and overwhelmed to think of making a change; juggling a high-pressure career, still trying to grow and hit goals, rushing home into new-mom life after long meetings and longer commutes. That fierce protective shield that I’d donned in those post-partum months came with me and I started using it to defend myself against perceived judgements, whether they were there or not. I was out to prove something and ready to fight against anyone who questioned my ability to do it all.
In reality, I was drowning. The shield I was wearing was presenting itself to the world as anger, intimidation, dissatisfaction, confrontation, and a trying attitude. I was struggling at work with crazy levels of stress and anxiety. I brought a short temper home with me to my husband and my daughter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed at all hours of the day, even in sleep (or lack thereof) I felt it. I buried my pain and my emotions in food and kept seeking outside sources to ease the suffering of what felt like constant failure. Nothing was ever enough – I was never enough. I kept fighting for the next promotion, for a better apartment, for more money, and then found myself pushing for another child.
When I got pregnant again, I said to my husband, “it’s got to be different this time. I’ve got to ease up on the stress and take care of myself. I’ve got to be healthier. I’m going to be.” The challenge was that I had done zero work on me to set myself up for success. I was so vigilant about protecting Remy from the world and protecting myself from what others might think that I didn’t have the energy for anything else. There wasn’t a single healthy habit to be seen anywhere in my life.
So, pregnancy number two wasn’t much different than the first, except that I got full-fledged preeclampsia this time around and Sydney came into the world as a preemie. She was, thankfully, extremely healthy and came home from the hospital with no issues. Until about a week or so, all seemed normal, then we noticed the bright red mark developing on her upper lip that grew with each passing day. By the time she was a month old, she had a large hemangioma on her upper lip that was partially obstructing her airway – another rare birthmark, this one more common in children born premature.
A few days after learning all there was to learn about another type of birthmark and getting Sydney started on a medication that would help her, I was at the playground with my husband and both girls. Remy was almost two, playing on the equipment with a couple of girls a few years older than her, and I had Sydney wrapped against my chest in a carrier. I was chatting with another mom, explaining about Sydney’s lip and how it was a mark that would go away in time while out of the corner of my eye, I watched Remy play. I was so apprehensive. The older girls were asking Remy what was wrong with her hand, poking at it and then running away from her. She didn’t yet have the language to speak up for herself so instead, she walked over to me and sat next to me on the bench. She’d gone from happy and playful to completely shut down in an instant. She refused to go back and play, and my heart was completely broken. This was the moment I had been dreading. My husband and I just looked at each other and started walking the girls home.
That night, after we got them both bathed and in bed, I completely fell apart in his arms. I sobbed, knowing that this was going to be Remy’s new normal and now her sister would face similar challenges in her early years as well. I didn’t know what to do or how to help them. Neither one of us did. I felt in my bones that trying so fiercely to protect them against it was futile – that I had to do more for them. I had to raise them with unshakeable confidence, with belief in themselves that could stand up against anyone or anything. I wanted them to always see in themselves what their father and I saw in them, to love themselves completely, and to value that love above whatever the world may throw at them.
But there was no way that I could do any of that. All of my years in education had taught me one of the most profound and simplest truths about children – they learn by watching. They will mirror what they see far more than they will listen to what they are told. So, I knew that no matter how often I told my girls that they were beautiful, strong, smart, capable, confident, and perfect as is – they needed to see it reflected in me. They needed to learn self-love from their mother. Unfortunately, their mother didn’t have much of it to show them. She was lost. She’d spent the past few years putting herself on the back burner and forgetting who it was that she truly wanted to be. She felt like she had nothing to offer.
The next day, I ripped off a piece of scrap paper from a notebook and wrote out a list of goals – something I hadn’t done in years. I dusted off my old goal-setting techniques from the archives of my memories and got to work strategizing a plan of what felt, at the time, like ‘getting myself back.’ I purchased my first ever at-home fitness program, bought a new journal, pulled all of my athletic wear out of storage, and posted my goals up on the door to my closet where I could see them all the time.
The experience in the beginning was humbling to say the least. I for sure thought that it wouldn’t take too long for me to get back into the swing of things. I’d been active most of my life after all. But in that first week, I threw up during three workouts, cried during even more of them, and sustained injuries to my knees that left me unable to walk. I leaked milk through sports bras, suffered through the worst engorgement pain while trying to do jumping jacks, and completely lost my cool with the girls out of sheer exhaustion. I was sore and defeated. I wanted so badly to give up right then and there. Everything felt absolutely impossible.
But then I remembered Remy’s face that day at the playground. I looked down at her little hand and then back up to the goals that I had posted on my wall. I would never want for her to give up on herself. I knew that I had to show her that I wouldn’t give up on me, either. So, I kept going. I committed to another week and this time, decided to stop ordering takeout and eating fast food. I worked with a physical therapist who helped me ease back into working out with more support for my body and less pain.
After a few weeks, I felt a shift happening in me. A confidence was building inside of me, and I was starting to feel more like myself again. I don’t think I lost all that much weight in the beginning but the emotional burdens that I was shedding made me feel lighter than I had in years. I took to social media for the first time to start sharing a bit of my story. I knew that I wasn’t alone in feeling so lost and out of control in my own body. I wanted to share so that I could be held accountable for sticking to my own journey and maybe inspire someone else along theirs.
Remy started working out with me. Not because I pushed her to, but because she wanted to do it with mommy. I made a concerted effort to always be positive in the way that I spoke to myself during a workout. I’d go completely over the top shouting things like “This hurts but I can do it!” or “This is hard, but I believe in myself! I am strong!” It all started sinking into my brain until I believed it, and in her little voice, Remy would shout the same things while Sydney watched us from her swing. I changed the way I was eating and fueling my body. I started looking at food in a whole new way – as a way to take care of myself instead of feeding my emotions. I spoke to the girls about it, too, while I prepared meals.
The confidence in me continued to grow. I honestly hadn’t even lost a quarter of the weight I’d put on yet, but I started wearing things out of my closet that I hadn’t put on in years because I FELT better. I didn’t feel the need to hide anymore. My mom and others closest to me started commenting on how much happier I seemed. My husband and I were reconnecting in our marriage, hardly realizing that anything had been missing before.
I delved deep into the world of personal development. I felt my body strengthening and I was becoming so much healthier, I wanted to do the same for my mind. I started reading, using whatever downtime I had to learn about tackling my mindset and my emotions. I poured over other women’s stories, I implemented new habits and routines into our lives and spent my evenings with my husband talking about our vision for the future of our family in a whole new light. Things started to seem…possible.
It wasn’t long into this journey that we decided it was time for me to quit my job and stay home with the girls. I felt very strongly that they needed me with them and that the path I was on was exactly where I was meant to be. I knew that going back to work [in corporate] would be toxic for me, for all of us really, so we decided that I would quit. It would be a struggle financially and I’d have to do something to earn income but with that decision, another weight lifted off of me. I realized that I had been allowing success at my job to define me, just as I had the other phases of my life – the pregnancy, motherhood, former dancer, fitness freak. As I stepped away from each of these identities, I realized that I was stepping more into myself.
I wanted to give my girls that realization from the beginning. I started talking to Remy more about her birthmark and giving her the language to talk about it herself. I became very conscious of how I spoke about my own body when I looked at it in the mirror, knowing that she was listening and watching my every move. As the weight continued to come off, the excess skin and stretch marks appeared in all their glory but I never let myself get down about them. I didn’t want her to see or hear that from me. So, I became determined to love those aspects of my new body as well. I showed them to Remy with pride and told her that these were special parts of me that I got by bringing her and her sister into the world.
It took me a little over a year and a half to lose the 70 pounds I had gained over my pregnancies, and then some, and to shed all of the crap that came with it. I lost so much more than weight. I lost the need to fulfill anyone else’s expectations for me or my life except my own. I ditched the crippling self-doubt and insecurity that was keeping me stuck in an unhappy version of myself. I shed the borrowed identities of who I thought I was supposed to be and learned to embrace who I am. The journey was sparked by my amazing daughter, her beautiful birthmark, and the desire to give her confidence which arose in me a need to find my own.
During that time, I got certified as a Health Coach while I navigated the world of networking marketing as a coach for the online fitness program I was doing. The MLM world wasn’t for me, but it gave me the gift of learning what was possible working in the virtual space. I launched my own individual and group coaching programs for women, helping women all over the country overcome limiting beliefs, navigate challenges and get their own health on track. For so many of us, it comes down to simply prioritizing ourselves, and I was so honored to help other women do just that. I built my business from my dining room table with an infant and toddler underfoot, earning 5 figured in my first year alone, while my husband commuted hours to and from work in NYC. It was HARD – we hardly saw him, and I very quickly learned how much I HATED being a stay-at-home mom in the dead of winter. He had been begging for years to move to Miami (my Caribbean man) and I finally agreed. We had conquered so much together already; I knew we could take on another change and I was finally ready to leave NYC.
A week before we were going to move, I started feeling… off. I wasn’t sure why, but took a pregnancy test I found while packing up our bathroom cabinets just to rule that out. Joke was on me – it turned positive almost instantly. SURPRISE! We were pregnant again. About to move thousands of miles away from our friends and family with no network. I’ll be honest – I was not happy right away. I had JUST gotten my body back, just finished breastfeeding and business was going well. I wasn’t ready for this. But…we stepped forward anyways. I decided that I would put my business on hold once we moved so my husband could fully throw himself into his new real estate ventures in Miami (while maintaining his full-time job in gym equipment sales) and give it everything he had. I could then focus on the girls and this new pregnancy – staying healthy, staying fit, and avoiding the health concerns I’d had the first two times.
We moved in October 2019. It only takes quick math and recollection to know what would come next – COVID. I spent the first few months of our time in Miami sick on the couch and when I finally started to feel better, lockdowns started raining down on us. I couldn’t go anywhere anymore and started getting depressed. I was no longer earning income because I’d put that pause on my business, and my husband lost his job completely. No income. No health insurance. Due with a baby in May. The weight started piling back on pretty quickly as I stopped taking care of myself again.
The next year would prove to be one of the hardest of our lives, as it was for so many in 2020. We had a baby in the height of lockdowns and uncertainty. I spent three days alone with her in the hospital recovering from another c-section. We were joined by millions of others in homeschooling our girls (we’d already been homeschooling for two years) and once again, struggled to make ends meet. We found ourselves on government support for the first time in our lives and had to reach out to friends and family far away for help.
But as hard as things were logistically, we simply refused to stay in that negative space. We’d been there before. We knew where that led. And even though we were facing challenges that the world had never experienced before, we were going to find our way out.
I relaunched my virtual coaching and picked up some amazing clients, some of which I still work with today. As soon as gyms reopened, I walked into CKO Miami to try my first kickboxing class and was hooked immediately. I don’t know why but what they say is true – dancers make great fighters. Soon after I started coming to class regularly, the staff learned that I was still a certified trainer and that I’d taught group fitness before. They started urging me to get back on the mic. But it really took time. Time for me to get my confidence back, to find some sense of balance in motherhood, and prioritizing myself again. I needed that time for ME. To get healthy from the inside out.
About six months after I took my first class, I taught my first class. One class. That’s all it took. To remind me how much I love pushing, challenging, and inspiring others. How much I love movement and sharing it with others. I invested in incredible coaches to help me improve not just my craft but my mindset as well. As much as I’d struggled up to that point to make friends and find ‘my people’ in Miami, I found them in my coaches and training partners. So many people saw the best in me and pushed me to see it in myself and then spread it into the world. I built a roster of personal training clients, grew my virtual business, and began teaching more and more classes.
I started traveling the city and exploring more gyms, events, and fitness studios, driven by the energy that the fitness community cultivates. I made more friends the more I did it – like-minded people who are excited by growth, change, and becoming their best. I continued transforming my own life while helping others to do the same through my business. I started curating and hosting women’s empowerment events in the gyms where I work. Introducing more women to the life-changing effects of fight and combat training in an environment that is safe, inclusive, and FUN.
Three years after moving to Miami, I’m now a mom to thee girls ages 2, 4, and 6. I homeschool my children in partnership with my husband who has hustled just as hard as I have these past two years growing his e-commerce and mortgage businesses. My business – Amy Jacobs INC – has me teaching classes with CKO Kickboxing and Rumble Boxing, training clients 1:1, and coaching health clients online. I was also so honored to be cast as the lead instructor for two new programs in a streaming workout app called BodyFX – you can sweat with me anywhere now doing kickboxing and mini resistance bands programs. It was truly a full circle moment for me to film those programs, knowing that they can truly impact people’s lives the way that online workouts once did for me.
The year ahead will be exciting. I’ll be diving headfirst into the Rumble franchise as well as adding a new health coaching component to my work at CKO kickboxing to truly help people transform their lives. I’m also partnering with a friend and fellow health coach to launch a community/lifestyle/event brand that will bring together women in the wellness space and provide for them an outlet & community that we once sought for ourselves when we came to Miami. We’ve worked together on the events that I’ve already hosted, and what we have coming next will be even better than before.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
I’m a certified personal trainer and health coach specializing in transforming women’s lives.
I’m known for many things depending on how we interact – personal training, coaching kickboxing, health coaching, and leading events – but in all areas, I’m known as Coach Amy. I’m known for being a badass but kind and inspiring at the same time – I’m a tough female in a male-dominated industry (first fitness, then fight).
I’m proud of the fact that I’ve stuck it out as long as I have, through SO MANY struggles and challenges. The obvious challenges like pregnancy, moving, marriage, and covid. And the little ones that no one sees like mom guilt, self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and fear of failure. I keep stepping forward every day because I feel the calling to HELP and to make an impact so deeply.
I know many see that I’m different from so many other in my niche because I’m:
1. female
2. married and
3. a mom to three kids (a homeschooling mom at that)
I however feel different because my work is heart-centered. I’m not driven by profit or notoriety. I don’t care to be an influencer or social media famous. My drive to grow is rooted in my wish to make as great an impact as possible and reach as many people as I possibly can.
If we knew you growing up, how would we have described you?
I was energetic and deeply passionate, always. I have always worn my heart on my sleeve and, oddly enough, always wanted to be a teacher. I would set up little school rooms in my basement for my dolls and run little camp-like activities for the kids in my neighborhood during the summer. I have always had a deep desire to help others – I was a girl scout, volunteer for pretty much everything at school, altar server at church, and I babysat on the weekends. I’ve never really known how to sit still or not seek ways to be of service.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: www.instagram.com/coachamyjacobs
Image Credits
Stellar Media Agency Agora Productions – Pumba Dos Santos HappyFeet Photographer – Dana Nedelciu-Alexander
