Hi, I'm Amy Nichole, a portrait and landscape photographer, content creator for Adventure Our Life, and proud dog mom to our Aussie, Roxy Emilia.

My story began when I was eight years old, with a severe sunburn that left a mark I still carry.  I didn't know it then, but that moment would be the first chapter in a lifelong journey with my health and my skin.

At 19, in 2006, I face my first-ever major surgery, an 8 1/2-hour Ravitch repair for Pectus Excavatum (P.E.), a sever chest wall deformity that was compressing my heart and lungs.  My Haller Index was 13.9, among the most extreme cases.  The procedure left a large, open-heart style scar down my chest.  It was my first lesson in what resilience looks like and in how deep healing can run.

Recovery was long and difficult.  In the years that followed, I struggled with slow healing, fragile skin, and constant fatigue.  By 2010, I finally had answers: a diagnosis of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), a rare connective tissue disorder, along with POTS, which affects heart rate and blood pressure.  It explained everything from my slow recovery, to chronic pain, and how my body responded to surgery.

In 2012, I had my second P.E. surgery, this time a Nuss procedure, where a metal bar was placed behind my sternum for support.  The plan was to leave it in for 3-4 years while my chest stabilized.  

In January 2016, that bar was successfully removed.  But, just a few months later, I noticed a small, changing spot on my upper chest.  I trusted my instincts, had it checked, and was diagnosed with Stage 1B melanoma.  That diagnosis changed everything.

That same year, doctors diagnosed me with Dysplastic Nevus Syndrome, a genetic condition that makes me more prone to developing melanoma.  That discovery changed everything.  It meant lifelong skin monitoring, regular dermatology visits, and a commitment to never ignore what my body tries to tell me.

Then in November 2018, I underwent my third and final chest repair.  Because of my EDS, my surgeons decided to leave the Nuss bar in permanently to protect my heart and chest.  My left lung now works well; my right will never reach full capacity, but it's strong enough to keep me exploring, hiking, and living with gratitude.

In 2019, I faced two more melanomas on my right arm, only months apart and just inches away from each other.  Thanks to early detection and regular monitoring, both were caught early, stage 1B and stage 1A.

In 2022, I faced another challenge, cervical cancer. I underwent a hysterectomy, and continue to be closely monitored due to rare cancer markers.

And in May 2023, I faced my fourth melanoma, this time in the same sunburn-shaped area that began my story as a child.  Thankfully, it was caught early at Stage 0.

Every diagnosis, every scar, has shaped how I see my body.  Not as something broken, but as something that refuses to give up.  My scars aren't flaws, they are reminders of survival.  There was a time I couldn't walk half a mile without pain or breathlessness.  Today, I can hike ten miles and still stop to take in the view.

Confidence and healing look different now.  They mean choosing gratitude over comparison, patience over frustration, and compassion over shame.

While I don't yet own a POST SWIM suit, I deeply admire what the brand stands for: empowerment, body confidence, and honoring every version of ourselves.  I look forward to the day I can wear one and feel part of that message, one that celebrates not perfection, but perseverance.

Your scars are not your ending, they are proof that you've already survived the hardest parts.  Keep going; your strength is still unfolding.