“I know enough,” I said. “Build something that changes the world. I will handle the rest.”
That was my first investment.
It would not be my last.
Over the next four months, as my belly grew and my body changed, I quietly built a portfolio.
A cybersecurity startup run by two MIT dropouts.
A biotech firm working on revolutionary cancer treatments.
A clean energy company developing next-generation solar panels.
A logistics platform that would eventually disrupt the entire shipping industry.
I did not invest like a traditional venture capitalist, spreading money thin across dozens of companies hoping one would hit.
I invested like a woman who knew what it felt like to be underestimated.
I found the founders no one else would touch. The ones who were too young, too inexperienced, too unconventional.
The ones who reminded me of myself.
And I gave them not just money, but time. Strategy. Connections.
I became the investor every founder dreamed of and no one knew existed.
My pregnancy became impossible to hide by month five.
I was enormous, carrying four babies in a body that was not designed for such a load.
I could barely walk up stairs without getting winded.
But I did not stop.