If you want to support independent women's media, become a Mamamia subscriber . Get an all-access pass to everything we make, including exclusive podcasts, articles, videos and our exercise app, MOVE.

23 years ago, Sophie Delezio's story captured the hearts of Australians, after a car crashed into her childcare centre while she and the other children were sleeping.

She was just two years old.

The crash left Sophie with burns to 85 per cent of her body, and she lost both her feet, some fingers and her right ear.

And then, just three years later, the unthinkable. It happened again.

Sophie was hit by a car as her nanny pushed her wheelchair across a pedestrian crossing, throwing her 18 metres from her chair.

She suffered a brain injury, broken bones, punctured lungs and internal injuries.

And yet, she miraculously survived.

Listen: Sophie Delezio talks with Kate Langbroek on No Filter. Post continues below.

For most Australians, that is where Sophie Delezio's story begins and, for some, where their memory has stayed.

But sitting across from Kate Langbroek on No Filter, Sophie is now 25.

She's married to Joseph, who she met at high school. She is a mum to her son, Frankie. She has lived and studied in London. She has gone skydiving despite being told by Australian companies the risks were too great. And she has built a life far bigger than the childhood tragedy Australians remember.

And perhaps, most importantly, she's comfortable talking about her story on her own terms.

"I wish I knew everyone as well as they know me," Sophie tells Kate.

It's a feeling that has followed her throughout her life. People recognise her in public; they know who she is from the countless photographs and headlines, and remember the broad strokes of what happened to her.

But they don't necessarily know Sophie. And that's what makes her conversation with Kate so revealing.

One of the most striking things about Sophie's interview is how little she wants her story to be reduced to suffering.

She remembers growing up in hospital not just through the lens of pain, but through the people who made those years bearable.

"People often expect me to always talk about pain and my suffering and all that when it comes to my hospital experiences," she says. 

But that's not what she remembers most.

"There is hope within sadness," Sophie confesses. "There is good times within that."

For Sophie, children's hospitals were also places filled with laughter, a lot of love and people who made an extraordinarily difficult childhood feel, in some ways, surprisingly joyful.

She remembers "the people, the clown doctors, the Starlight Room, the music therapists" and the volunteer dogs that would come to visit.

"There is so much love in a children's hospital," she notes. 

It's part of the reason she has never viewed her life only through the lens of what happened to her.

When Kate asks whether she considers herself a lucky or unlucky person, her answer is immediate.

"Oh, lucky!"

People often ask Sophie whether she would go back and change what happened to her if she could.

Her answer is just as clear: "No way". 

"Because everything in my life, everything that's happened — the good, the bad, the ugly — has brought me to this moment today, and I love my life."

While she can't control the bad things from happening, she says she focuses on what comes next.

"What you can control is what you do after the bad thing happens, how you view the world that you live in, how you treat people, what you do with your kindness and the love that you have to give. That's what you can control."

One of the loveliest parts of the conversation is when Sophie talks about her relationship with her husband, Joseph.

They met at school in Year Nine and became friends, although they didn't start dating until later.

Sophie says she has a terrible memory, but remembers meeting the people who have gone on to have the biggest impact on her life.

Their relationship eventually found its way back to them during COVID.

Sophie had been living in London, studying social anthropology and developmental studies at SOAS University of London, when she returned to Australia during the pandemic.

Joseph happened to be "within the five" kilometre radius.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

Now, the couple have a beautiful young son, Frankie.

But becoming a mum brought Sophie face-to-face with something she couldn't plan for.

And that was particularly confronting for someone whose life has involved countless surgeries and medical procedures.

Sophie says she and Joseph always wanted children, but they went into the process knowing there were plenty of unknowns.

"Conceiving and pregnancy and birth, like it is all unwritten, all unknown," she says.

Her pregnancy ultimately went well, but at 36 weeks, her son's growth slowed slightly.

By 37 weeks, her obstetrician recommended they deliver him rather than risk waiting longer.

Suddenly, Sophie was faced with a choice between an induction and a cesarean, and she knew immediately which one she didn't want.

"I do not want a C-section," she remembers thinking.

For someone who had spent so much of her life in operating theatres, the prospect of another surgery was understandably confronting.

But motherhood also reinforced something Sophie had already learnt throughout her life: you don't get to control everything your body does.

"You have, as the mother, very little control of what's happening, even though it is your body," she tells Kate.

After weighing up her options, Sophie ultimately chose a planned cesarean rather than risk an emergency delivery.

"In an ideal world, I probably wouldn't have."

Fortunately, the birth went wonderfully.

Then there was another part of Sophie's life she decided she needed to take back control of: social media.

After becoming a mum, Sophie found herself increasingly uncomfortable with the comments she was receiving online.

She had been sharing aspects of motherhood with her followers, including talking about pumping breast milk, when the backlash became overwhelming.

What surprised her most was that even something as seemingly innocuous as discussing pumping attracted criticism.

"I was like, whoa, it was just crazy," Sophie recalls. 

Eventually, she found herself asking, "What's the point?"

"So I just deleted the app," Sophie admitted.

And she stayed off for a year.

The experience was, in her words, "so relaxing".

"I was definitely less stressed," she explains. "It got to the point where I was so stressed to make content that when it came to making it, I couldn't actually make it because I was so stressed."

Sophie also realised she'd become so consumed by creating content, she couldn't separate her work from her actual life.

"I couldn't differentiate what was my life and what was my job," she reflects. "I just wanted to live life for once without having to share it with the world."

Eventually, she returned to Instagram, but not TikTok, and with a different perspective on what she wanted from social media.

Now, she says, she's "a lot kinder" to herself and has a much clearer divide between her work and life.

You can listen to the full conversation with Sophie Delezio on No Filter. The episode, "Sophie Delezio Wouldn't Change A Thing", is available now wherever you get your podcasts.

Stepping away from social media also opened the door to something new.

Sophie began hosting the podcast Kids' Health Explained with the Sydney Children's Hospital Network, speaking to clinicians about children's health. The podcast gives Sophie a new way to use her own experiences to connect with families navigating the healthcare system.

But walking back into children's hospitals in this new role has been emotional.

She sees parents with their sick children and recognises, to some extent, what they're going through. And while she understands the sadness, she also remembers the good. 

So, she's using that perspective to help other families.

Because Sophie's story has never really been about what happened to her. It's about everything that happened, and is happening, next.

Feature image: Instagram @soph.delezio.