Author: Simina Barbieru

When I moved to the U.S. at just 8 years old, my entire world transformed. We were Orthodox Christians in Romania — a little more open. So, we came from a world of tradition to a world of faith, of structure — but not the kind you’d expect from American culture as a whole. Ours was stricter. Tighter. We landed in a deeply Pentecostal home, where faith was enforced with rules that went beyond belief. 

In our new home, dreams like becoming an artist, designer, or actress weren’t just unrealistic — they were wrong. Inappropriate. Ungodly. I was raised to be humble, modest, quiet. No makeup. No nail polish. No showing off. No red lipstick. No sleepovers. No boyfriends. No freedom to question, or even fully breathe.

And yet… I always had this colorful, expressive world stirring vividly within me.

Growing up, I didn’t fit in — not with the cool girls, not with the trends. I had my own weird style (which now might be considered “edgy” or even Pinterest-core), and people noticed. And not always kindly. I was mocked, dismissed, and misunderstood — but I kept going, even when it felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.

When I turned 25, I hit my limit. I said: Enough. I’m going back to LA. To party. To breathe. To fumble through freedom and finally be me.

That chaos also led me to him. My best friend. My husband now. (Well, let’s hope my forever.)

He showed up when I was unraveling. And instead of running from my intensity, he saw through it. Understood my sarcastic humor, my softness, my wild spirit, my triggers. I had just escaped a violent relationship. I was broken, hardened. He didn’t try to fix me — just stood by me and saw me. And somewhere in all of that, love happened. Healing happened. And a new chapter began.

After our son Lucas was born, we moved as a family back to Nashville. It was a grounding choice — a safe place to raise kids, where our roots and our hopes could meet halfway.

Last summer, we took a long-awaited trip to Romania — a chance to be surrounded by our people, our food, our land. I was 26 weeks pregnant with my second baby, navigating the intense, beautiful demands of motherhood while carrying new life. Lucas wanted me constantly — to be held, to be near, to be his entire world — and I was swollen, tired, and somehow still savoring every second.

We walked cobblestone streets, visited extended family, and I saw my biological father for the first time in 39 years. He’s been trying. Reaching out. I don’t know. Maybe it’s never too late — or maybe it is and you just forgive anyway. That moment cracked something open in me — grief, peace, healing. I’m okay.

But let’s talk about the food!! The food was unreal — fresh, non-toxic, artisanal in essence — and my body thrived. That trip wasn’t just a visit home. It was a reckoning with my past and a celebration of how far I’ve come.

And just last week, we took our first trip as a family of four to Cancun.
At the airport, Lucas started spiraling into a full-on tantrum. Nothing worked… until I handed him my LOVEVOOK duffle bag. He clutched it like it was his mission. Wouldn’t let anyone else near it. Dragged it through the terminal with fierce toddler determination — crisis miraculously averted.

One of our days there, we took a ferry to Isla Mujeres — and it was so muggy and hot I thought I might combust. Lucas sat in the front of the go-kart with his dad while I was squished in the back with the baby and the bag under our feet, trying to keep it from flying out as we bounced to our next stop.

But there was one moment that was just for me. I booked an aesthetic treatment — Russian lip filler technique — something subtle but beautiful that made me feel like me. I often get judged for it, but it’s part of how I care for myself, especially postpartum. Self-care doesn’t always look like bubble baths — sometimes it looks like doing one thing that reminds you you’re still in there.

Every morning, though? That made up for everything. Our breakfast was amazing. Like, a soul-soothing reprieve. Coffee. Fresh fruit. Warm food I didn’t have to cook. That kind of reset feels sacred.

In the end, what’s the meaning of life?
Motherhood has stretched me, saved me, and shown me the depths of love I didn’t know existed. Lucas and Oliver are the very embodiment of my heart beyond myself. They’ve brought vibrancy, turbulence, and revelation to my life.

And my family — my everything — is why I’m glowing in this season. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real.
It’s in the way my baby boy smiles at me — not just with his mouth, but with his eyes. It’s in the way my toddler calls out “Mama” like it’s the most important word in the world.
Now, I carry that with me. As a mom. As a woman. As someone who decided that life is to be experienced in its fullest spectrum, not just followed.