Becoming Amber

I used to think I had to earn softness.

That if I could just be good enough—quiet enough, helpful enough, invisible enough—maybe the world would let me exist. Maybe I’d be allowed to feel beautiful. Maybe I’d be allowed to be… me.

But I know better now.

My name is Amber. I’m a proud transwoman, a partner, a creator, a cat mom (hi, Marlowe),  and one of the hearts behind The Lady’s Haven.
This is my story—not the polished version, but the real one. The one with bruises and breakthroughs. The one I used to be afraid to tell.

The Early Years: A Quiet Knowing

I was born into a world that didn’t have a name for me yet. I was assigned male at birth, but even as a child, I knew something didn’t fit. I didn’t have the language for it then—I just knew that when I looked in the mirror, I was searching for someone I hadn’t met yet.

I was sensitive. I cried easily. I loved sparkles and softness and stories where the girl got to be the hero. I was told to toughen up. To stop being “so dramatic.” To act like a boy. So I learned to perform. I became a master of camouflage—smiling when I wanted to scream, nodding when I wanted to run.

But inside, I was always Amber. I just didn’t know her name yet.

The Breaking Point

Puberty hit like a betrayal. My body changed in ways that felt foreign, even violent. I remember staring at my reflection and thinking, This isn’t me. This isn’t fair. I tried to push it down. I tried to be what everyone expected. I dated girls. I played the part. But the mask got heavier every year.

By my early twenties, I was unravelling. Depression wrapped around me like fog. I felt like I was watching my life from behind glass—present, but not alive. I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t even know what to ask for.

And then, one night, I stumbled across a video of a trans woman sharing her story. She looked into the camera and said, “You’re not broken. You’re becoming.” I sobbed for hours. For the first time, I saw myself reflected back. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t crazy. I was just… waiting to bloom.

The Becoming

Coming out wasn’t a single moment. It was a thousand tiny choices: buying my first dress. Telling a friend. Correcting someone when they used the wrong name. Crying in the car after a stranger called me “sir.” Laughing with joy the first time someone said “ma’am” and meant it.

There were losses. Some people drifted. Some slammed the door. But the ones who stayed? They became my chosen family. They saw me. They celebrated me. And in their love, I found the courage to love myself.

And then—Emily.

Love, Chosen and True

I met Emily at a time when I was still learning how to breathe as myself. I was out, but raw. Brave, but brittle. She didn’t just accept me—she recognized me. From the very first conversation, she spoke to the woman I was becoming, not the mask I had worn.

She asked questions no one had ever asked. She listened without flinching. She held space for my grief, my joy, my awkwardness, my glow. She helped me navigate hormones,

paperwork, dysphoria, and the quiet terror of being seen. She was my compass when I felt lost. My anchor when I felt adrift.

Emily didn’t guide me through transition like a teacher. She walked beside me like a partner. She held my hand through every appointment, every name change, every tearful victory. She reminded me that my body wasn’t a battleground—it was a home I was allowed to decorate.

And when I finally looked in the mirror and saw Amber—fully, joyfully, radiantly Amber—I saw her standing beside me. Smiling. Proud.

After Transition: A Love That Grew Stronger

Transition didn’t just change me—it deepened us. Our love grew roots. We became more honest, more playful, more tender. We built rituals: morning coffee with Marlowe curled between us, late-night talks with Nova blinking from her terrarium, spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen.

We stopped hiding. We started dreaming.

And one of those dreams became The Lady’s Haven.

The Lady’s Haven: Born from Becoming

The Lady’s Haven was born after my transition—not just as a boutique, but as a declaration. A place where softness isn’t earned. Where beauty isn’t gatekept. Where every body, every gender, every story is worthy of celebration.

It’s our love letter to the world. Our rebellion wrapped in velvet. Our sanctuary stitched with pride.

I pour my heart into every campaign, every affirmation, every size chart that says, “You belong here.” Because I know what it’s like to feel erased. I know what it’s like to search for yourself in a store and come up empty. And I never want anyone to feel that way again.

This boutique is my way of saying: You are seen. You are sacred. You are stunning.

Where I Am Now

I’m still becoming. Every day, I learn more about who I am and what I deserve. I’m softer now—not because I’ve been broken, but because I’ve been brave. I’ve learned that vulnerability is a superpower. That joy is resistance. That love—real, honest love—is the most beautiful thing we can wear.

So if you’re reading this and you’re still searching, still aching, still wondering if you’re allowed to take up space—I see you. I was you. And I promise: there is light ahead. There is softness. There is home.

You are not broken. You are becoming.

And you are so, so loved.

—Amber.