A New Chapter at 51: Peace, Purpose, and Preparing for Baby

There’s something deeply humbling—and quietly powerful—about standing at the edge of a brand-new chapter when the world assumes most of your story is already written. I turn 51 this week, and instead of winding down, I feel like I’m just beginning.

On Tuesday at 3:30 PM, I’ll welcome a baby girl into my home. This is a foster placement, with the very real possibility that it could become a foster-to-adopt journey. And while I know the road ahead will have its challenges, I’m stepping into it with an open heart, steady hands, and a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a long time.

I’ve spent the past few weeks turning my spacious apartment into a home that’s ready for her—folding tiny clothes, rearranging furniture, building a space that feels safe, calm, and full of love. There’s no family here, no big support system, no partner. Just me and Pippin Took, my beloved dog who has faithfully walked with me through so many seasons of life. But somehow, that’s enough. More than enough.

I’m not doing this out of impulse or loneliness. I’m doing this out of calling and conviction. This is something I’ve long felt drawn to, and after years of service to others—through foster care, CASA, volunteer work, ministry, and my law enforcement support community—it feels like all roads have been leading to this moment.

A Life That Fits

There’s also a certain calm in the air these days. 406 Back the Blue, the support organization I founded, is running like a well-oiled machine. After years of pouring my own time, energy, and resources into it—building it from the ground up with no outside help—it’s finally in a place where it practically runs itself. I can’t even begin to describe the peace that brings. The mission, the momentum, the people who have joined in support of our officers—it all continues to move forward even when I’m not holding the wheel every minute. That’s the sign of something strong. Something that will last.

Working from home has only added to this sense of alignment. My job with the spine surgeon is structured perfectly for this new season of life. I work Monday through Friday, 7 to 5, and my apartment has become this quiet, productive sanctuary where I can get things done, sip coffee on snowy mornings, and spend precious time with Pippin curled up beside me. There’s rhythm. There’s purpose. And for the first time in a long time, there’s contentment.

Rooted in Montana

Pippin and I are back in Montana now, and I can say without hesitation—we’re home. It was never my intention to leave permanently, and now that I’m back, I know in my bones that this is where I’m meant to be. Montana has its rough edges. It can be harsh and cold, both in weather and in the way some folks treat you when you’re “from California.” But it’s also real. Gritty. Beautiful. Honest. And I’ve never been afraid of working hard to earn my place in a community. My life here is rooted in service, in love, and in truth.

Becoming Mom

Becoming a mom at 51 wasn’t something I could have scripted, but it feels completely right. I’ve lived a rich, complicated, joy-filled life. I’ve loved deeply, survived heartache, and stood alone more times than I can count. I’ve built a career, served strangers, supported law enforcement across Montana, and fostered hope in places most people don’t even see. And now—I get to open my home and my heart to one tiny human who might just change everything.

There’s fear, sure. There’s the reality of doing this solo, of being “the only one.” But more than anything, there is joy. Quiet, steady joy. The kind that grows from knowing who you are, why you’re here, and what you were made to do.

This is my new beginning. Not a reinvention, not a rescue, not a last-ditch attempt at anything—but the next right step in a life that’s always been defined by faith, love, and courage.

So here we go. Tuesday at 3:30. My birthday on Wednesday. A new chapter, a new life, and a love that’s already filling these walls.

Thank you for walking with me.

– Samara

Lover’s Point, Pacific Grove

 *At Lovers Point, Pacific Grove*

In the hush before dawn’s first light, we stand  

Where earth meets the endless swell of the sea,  

The fog, like a scholar’s ancient cloak, enfolds  

Each whisper of wind, each breath we release.

Pippin at my side, sentinel of the dawn,  

His soft coat gathers the chill of the mist,  

Yet in his eyes, a warmth that defies  

The cold—steady as the tide’s eternal pull.

Above, the gulls cry, spectral voices  

In the gray, their wings tracing histories  

Of cliffs and coastlines, a cartography  

Of salt and spray, ancient and ever new.

The seals call, distant echoes of life beneath,  

Where kelp forests sway in rhythms only the deep  

Can know. The air is thick with the scent of the brine,  

And something sweeter—yeast and warmth, a promise

Of fresh bread, of coffee brewed in quiet kitchens,  

Where day’s labor awaits, but not yet, not yet.  

Here, we linger, suspended in the sacred  

Embrace of place and moment, the world distilled

To fog, to scent, to sound—an erudite discourse  

Of nature’s own design, a lesson in simplicity  

And splendor, where even the most eloquent  

Words fall silent, humbled by the sea’s soft roar.

Life and profound loss

It's been a month! Mr. Darcy passed away, and Sookie St. James passed away less than a month later. The three of us spent over 14 happy years together. I am coming from a space of gratitude instead of sadness. My cats were there for me in every difficult moment, losing family and life events. I feel like I gave them the best life a cat could want. I loved them with all my heart, and I miss them immensely. If you've ever lost a pet, you know exactly what it feels like. I took this video of my new Gilroy, CA apartment, which seems too quiet sometimes in their absence. I turned 50 on Tuesday, and I enjoyed the day as much as one can when they're missing their two best friends, (Sookie and Darcy), but also Angie, Dawn, Tamara, and Don, and Shawn). Every day I feel like I am healing a bit more than I was the day before. Doing everything the healthy way, the hard and healthy way. Processing the pain and loss instead of putting it off to another day that never seems to come.

I'm spending a large amount of time out on the coast at PG, or Pacific Grove for those not in the know. My best pal and brother from another mother, Coburn and I are exploring every nook and cranny of the beloved coast we grew up next to. 

Dating when you're newly 50 has proved, interesting, to say the very least. California men are unique creatures. I was born and raised here, but I left 30 years ago, and things have changed, significantly. Some men take issues with a woman if she eats meat, carbs, gluten or fruits and vegetables that did not fall dead from the tree or vine of their own accord. Also, the fact that I possess and carry a firearm is an issue to some as well. 

When I moved to Gilroy, (Santa Clara County), I had to surrender my active Madera County CCW, and apply for this counties CCW, and just to get the initial interview was 8 months of not carrying as I was out and about at all hours of night and day alone. I had my interview and passed that again, then passed the background check again, and this Friday I have my psych eval online that is supposed to last 4-6 hours, and after passing that again, I will be on the last step which is to qualify at the gun range again. This will be the third CCW I have obtained. I think by now the Department of Justice knows I am a fully trained, and responsible, and extremely law-abiding citizen. I am thinking about competing in range competitions I've gotten so adept at this hobby.

All in all, I am taking everything in stride, and savoring every moment life has to offer. With friends I've had since high school, and new friends I've met along the way, and I have high hopes for brighter days to come. I'm even pondering getting a long-haired miniature dachshund, that I've already decided to name Petrichor, male or female.

If I could offer some unsolicited device, never miss an opportunity to love your people, pets and moments to their utmost; and never, ever, miss an opportunity to laugh at yourself, and at the absurdity of the moment, and with your beloved friends and family. I have so many happy memories, and even more to make. Miles to go before I sleep.

The policy of silence

 “The Policy of Silence”

You tell us to speak when we witness a wrong,

To raise up our voices, be steadfast and strong.

You print out the posters, hang signs on the wall,

“See something, say something” — the company call.

But the truth is a weapon you turn on our backs,

When honesty threatens your carefully laid tracks.

You don’t want the truth, you just want control,

A head bowed in silence, a self-swallowed soul.

You say you want courage, a just, open door,

But pushbacks are punished and truth is a chore.

The brave ones who speak are dismissed with a grin,

Their badge turned to shame, their file thrown in.

What you mean is: stay quiet, obey and pretend,

Don’t rock the boat or you’ll reach your end.

Don’t ask any questions, don’t look too deep,

Don’t stir what the higher-ups want you to keep.

You preach of respect but enforce the regime

Where kissing the ring is the company dream.

Where loyalty’s measured in silence and spin,

And ethics are buried with a marketing grin.

So when someone stands for what’s honest and right,

They’re labeled a problem, dismissed overnight.

Not fit for the game, not part of the plan—

Just another bold soul the system outran.

You say, “Speak up,” but mean “Fall in line,”

Or find yourself next in the unemployment line.

By,

Samara Sant

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So productive today! My bestie came by and we ran to get food in the rain. Getting ready for work tomorrow.

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A blissfully, quiet day, uneventful, but quite productive. Nothing too incredibly exciting. Rest relaxation a little bit of laundry, put on a nice roast should be ready in a couple of hours. I enjoy meal prep nothing exciting on the agenda for tomorrow, really nothing until Friday morning. Saying prayers that everything goes well at my 930 meeting. I’m thinking of the Japanese after their 7.6 earthquake, and impending tsunami.

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 Another year come and gone. Where does the time go? No, seriously, where did it go? I feel like I just got here. Here being California. I feel like it's 1993 and I am leaving these Bay Area streets for Oklahoma. Now it's the end of 2023, and I am back on the very same streets. It's true you know; you can't go home again. The streets are dirtier, more crowded, and infinitely more dangerous. The roads are literally disintegrating beneath our feet. The beaches I walked down on Thanksgiving are under water. Where I lived twice with my father and sister, Pacifica, well, it hasn't fared any better. 40-foot swells. The ocean is no longer staying put. 

Lost more family this year. Aunt Barb, my mom's sister, died at the end of May.  I lost touch or grew apart from friends I thought I'd have for life. Tammi, Shawn, Angela Majors, (not my bestie Angie), I'm talking to you. As I go about my global adventures, I take each of you with me. I always think about what we would be saying as I walk through. I think about adventures we've been on as Facebook reminds me every day. What great fun we had. I miss you more than words can say. I wish we could talk, hang out, catch up. 

I had a health scare. Post rape I was under extreme stress. My cardiologist said that I was in perfect health except that I had stress related (and completely reversible), sinus tachycardia, and that if I didn't make some changes, I wouldn't be long for this world. The Urgent Care Doc didn't read the test results right initially, and told me I didn't have 3 hours, and that I needed to get to a Trauma Center. Trauma Cardiologist was so mad at her. I was released the same day, no surgery, no death sentence. Just a prescription for peace.

Dealing with my attack alone in Helena, without my best friends Tammi and Shawn, and leaning solely on Angie all the way in South Carolina, and my sister in California, wasn't easy. I had to get to loved ones fast, so here I am. Mr. Darcy and Sookie St. James don't care for the inner city but seem to be content being with me. We've really taken to the full-time rv life. I sit here blogging, listening to my Alexa that Shawn got me all those years ago, and Sookie is sitting next to me in her cat bed. Window is open and my Xterra is a foot away from that, so I can keep an eye on it. It was 70 degrees on Christmas day. It's always pleasant here. I miss Montana, and just want to come home. 

I'm running 406 Back the Blue from here, with the help of my beloved support team. I wish my Xterra could pull my travel trailer, but alas, I accidentally bought one that is too heavy. Otherwise, I would be out at the RV park by Overland Express living my best life.

Hoping the gunfire at midnight is minimal. It would be incredibly dumb to be out in these streets tonight. It's awful on the best days, tonight is going to be something akin to downtown Falluja. My little rv park should be pretty chill, but who knows what it will be like nearby.

The eucalyptus smell that I associate with home, that still lingers in the air. Reminds me of people long gone, and my heart hurts. Have to protect my heart from heartache more now than ever. I eat right, get plenty of exercise, but I can no longer get upset, frustrated, or even aggravated, and I certainly can't cry. Don't want my death certificate to read, "she died of a broken heart", literally.

I'm hopeful. I have faith. I have so many blessings in life. So many friends and some family that I love more than life itself, and my two cats that I hope live forever.

So, here's to another year. May the best of your past, be the worst of your future. I love you, and I miss you, more than yesterday, but less than tomorrow.