In the 1990s, she lit up the screen with unforgettable roles in films like Sex, Lies, and Videotape and Pretty Woman—unapologetically bold, emotionally layered, and undeniable. But in 1996, her world changed: she became a mother to Mason, who was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. Instead of faltering, her resolve deepened.
She reshaped her career—choosing roles that kept her close to home or walking away completely. What some perceived as retreat was, in truth, a profound act of love. She became caregiver, advocate, and anchor, rooted not in headlines but in therapy sessions, small milestones, and quiet joys.
The spotlight faded—but her purpose didn’t. Now, as she reemerges not chasing fame but shaped by it, she reminds us that legacy isn’t born on red carpets—it’s woven through the lives we nurture when no one’s watching.
