I am honoured to be working with a foundation focused on raising awareness and support for young patients and families navigating diagnoses like mine. My hope is to help ensure that other kids know they are not alone, that support exists, and that they can get through it too, just as I did.

My story started very early when I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis at just three-years-old. By 11 it had progressed into Crohn’s disease, a severe inflammatory bowel condition that made basic daily functions like eating, digestion, and using the bathroom extremely painful and unpredictable.

Between the ages of 11 and 13, my life was largely defined by hospital stays, IV poles, and constant uncertainty. I was frequently in pain, dependent on tube feeds, and missing out on things like school, friendships, and simply being a kid. Eventually, my condition deteriorated to the point where my medical team at The Montreal Children’s Hospital told my family that emergency surgery was necessary to save my life.

On May 2, 2008, when I was 13, everything changed. I had emergency surgery to remove most of my colon and woke up with a colostomy, where waste leaves the body through an opening into a bag. 

What was initially supposed to be a temporary measure became permanent through additional surgeries later on.

I have lived as an ostomate for seventeen years, but for fifteen of those years, I kept it hidden. I was ashamed, afraid of judgment, and convinced that being different made me less than others. My ostomy bag felt like a symbol of everything I had lost rather than what it actually gave me, which is life. I worried people would see me as unclean or unrelatable, and I struggled with the feeling that I was living in a body that no longer felt like my own.

Accepting my ostomy was not a single moment. It was a long and layered process. It meant relearning how to see myself, how to move through the world, and how to feel confident in both private and public spaces. I had to learn my body again, what I could eat, how to manage fear around noises or leaks in public, and how to navigate dating and relationships with something so personal and visible. Even simple things like sleepovers or pool days came with anxiety. Over time, I slowly began opening up to a few people at a time, and each positive experience gave me a little more strength to continue.

The team at The Children’s became a foundational part of my life during some of my hardest moments. The care I received went far beyond medical treatment. It was support, stability, and reassurance at a time when everything felt overwhelming and uncertain. Being looked after by professionals who guided both my family and me through such a critical period shaped my ability to heal, not only physically but emotionally. It gave me a sense of safety during a childhood that was anything but predictable, and it is something I still carry with me.

Everything shifted when I chose to share my story publicly for the first time on Instagram. I posted images of myself in a bikini openly showing my ostomy alongside my story. That moment changed my life. What I once saw as my biggest insecurity became the very thing that connected me to others. My struggle transformed into something powerful and shared.

Since then, I have built a platform focused on awareness, education, and empowerment around Crohn’s disease and ostomies. As a model, content creator, and advocate, my goal is to normalize ostomies and challenge the misconceptions that still exist. I want young people to see that living with a medical device does not take away from who you are. It can expand what you are capable of becoming.

I have had the opportunity to walk in New York Fashion Week, Miami Swim Week, and Los Angeles Fashion Week while proudly wearing my ostomy bag. I have collaborated with over fifty international brands to create content that reflects real ostomy life and helps others feel seen. I was also a Miss Universe Canada 2025 finalist, placing in the top fifteen. Competing on that stage allowed me to represent my community in a space where I once never imagined I would belong.

Today, I live openly and confidently with my ostomy, which I have named LIV, meaning life in Swedish, because that is exactly what she gave me back. LIV is part of everything I do, traveling, modeling, creative work, and daily life. Together we challenge what confidence and beauty are supposed to look like. Every message I receive from someone saying they feel seen or less alone reminds me why I chose to share my story. I wouldn’t be here, living this life and sharing this story, without the care I received at The Montreal Children’s Hospital. Supporting the Foundation means helping more kids like me not just survive, but learn how to adapt and truly live out our dreams.

Sara Levitt (@saralevs)
Ambassador for The Montreal Children's Hospital Foundation