Hello
At 26, Samantha Hudson is a Savannah, Georgia–based fashion design graduate with a sharp eye for detail and a hands-on approach to craftsmanship. She currently works as an associate apparel and handbag designer for Nine Line Apparel, where attention to detail and precision are key. Her background in fashion design brings a creative edge to highly technical work, blending innovation with discipline. Outside of work, she shares life with her boyfriend, Sean, and their three pets—a sweet dog named Honey, a curious cat named Cinnamon, who live with Samantha, and a spunky pit bull named Nash, who lives at Sean's place—with all these animals, things are lively at home, and there's always adventure to be had. Grounded, creative, and detail-driven, she brings both skill and personality to everything she does.
My Story
I got my first period when I was 10 years old, and from the very beginning, something felt wrong. My periods were never just uncomfortable—they were debilitating. I missed school regularly from vomiting, intense pain, and bleeding through pads, no matter how often I changed them. The symptoms were so severe that shortly after my 11th birthday, I was put on birth control in an attempt to manage what was already disrupting my daily life.
By the end of fifth grade, I had missed so many days of school because of my period that I was nearly held back. Even at that young age, my body was demanding attention, though no one yet had a name for what was happening.
As I moved into middle school and high school, the pain settled into something closer to what many would call “normal” period pain—but my cycles themselves were anything but normal. I dealt with constant irregularity: missing months entirely, having multiple periods in a single month, or occasionally experiencing a cycle that seemed normal. The unpredictability became something I learned to live around, even though it never fully made sense.
In my twenties, everything escalated again. The pain returned with force, and new symptoms began stacking on top of old ones. I developed bladder and urinary issues, along with symptoms that mimicked menopause—changes that felt confusing, isolating, and alarming at my age. My body once again became something I had to plan my life around.
In October 2025, I was officially diagnosed with endometriosis on my bladder after many frustrating months of dismissal, frustrating doctor appointments, and the hopeless feeling that I would never be believed. Finally having a diagnosis was both validating and overwhelming—it confirmed that what I had been experiencing for years was real and serious, but it also marked the beginning of a new fight. Since then, I have been actively seeking excision surgery, advocating for proper care, and learning how to navigate life with a chronic condition that has shaped me since childhood.
Recently, I finally underwent excision surgery with Dr. Ken Sinervo at the Center for Endometriosis Care in Atlanta. What was found during surgery was more endometriosis than I could have ever imagined. Seeing the extent of the disease was overwhelming in a way that is difficult to put into words. For so many years, I had questioned my own body, my symptoms, and whether I was somehow exaggerating what I was experiencing. Surgery gave me tangible proof of what my body had been fighting all along.
While surgery does not erase the years of pain, uncertainty, or the challenges that come with living with endometriosis, it has given me another chapter in this journey—one rooted in hope, healing, and continuing to advocate for myself. I know there is still a road ahead of me, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like I am moving forward rather than simply trying to survive each day.
I decided to join Jordyn in continuing this rally not only because her dedication to supporting and bringing awareness to everyone who has ever struggled with endometriosis and adenomyosis is incredibly inspiring, but because she believed in my abilities and my story when I was feeling like all hope was lost and no one ever would. Her support reminded me that my story has value and that sharing it could help someone else feel less alone.
This is not just a story about pain. It is a story about persistence, self-advocacy, being heard, and continuing to move forward even when my body has made things difficult from the very start. It is a story about refusing to give up on myself, even when it felt like the medical system had given up on me. And it is a reminder that sometimes, the hardest part of this disease is not only living with the pain—it is fighting to have someone believe you when you say something is wrong.