On Veteran's Day 2022, founder Amanda Jorgensen faced a near-death ectopic pregnancy that ended her firefighting dreams. Still, she sparked the beginning of The Scheming Cookie. This is how baking through grief turned into Arizona's thriving protein cookie company.

A Firefighter's Dream, Put on Pause

It was Veteran's Day, November 11, 2022. I had just hung up the phone with Brad (then, my boyfriend of three months), celebrating my invitation to move forward with the hiring process at Gilbert Fire and Medical Department.

For five years as a single mother, I worked tirelessly toward becoming a firefighter. After countless rejections, wildland EMS contracts, and second-round interviews that never landed, I finally let go of my dream of structural fire. Instead, I took a full-time job at a cable company pulling fiber and coax… hard, gritty work where I was proud to earn the same paycheck as my male counterparts. However, I couldn't escape the dream, and reapplied after a hiatus. I could feel that this time would be different, and it started here, with that invitation.

A Pain I Couldn't Ignore

As I walked up to the job site, I felt this urge to use the restroom. I have been battling a pain for a week now. Last week, I had to leave my overtime shift early and grab some antibiotics before Brad and I met up with my Ragnar team over the weekend. I had committed to run a race through McDowell Mountain, had trained for it, and wasn't about to let what I thought was a UTI change that. This was a little over a week later, and the pain persisted. I excused myself from the job site and drove to the nearest blue porta-potty. I knew something was wrong when I sat down to use the restroom.

I called Brad, crying between each word as I told him something was wrong. After about 5 minutes, he convinced me to call 911. I was hesitant because I was convinced this was nothing but a UTI, not an emergency to wake the guys up at the firehouse or tie up resources. But when my heart started pounding, my skin began to sweat. The pain became so incredibly intolerable in my abdomen, I was reminded of all the medical calls, and unattended deaths I had run on where the patient had a heart attack on the toilet. My pride wouldn't let that be me, so I shimmied up my pants and limped to the back of my van, Brad on my personal phone, and 911 on my work phone. I texted my supervisor and partner, and before I knew it, Queen Creek Medical and Fire were on scene. Moments later, I was being transported to the nearest hospital, only to experience a near-death ectopic pregnancy. 

Brad stayed on the phone with me until he walked through the ER doors. My experience in the ER was horrendous until they realized I was internally bleeding. I watched my blood pressure drop to 60/40 before being wheeled into emergency surgery. Morphine, Dilaudid, and two rounds of Fentanyl, and not one second relieved the pain. I felt my fallopian tube fully rupture. I knew there was a chance I wouldn't make it out of surgery, and I was at peace with that outcome. 

When I woke up in the recovery room, I wept. I was pissed. I had been living in survival as a single mother, working two jobs just to manage rent and food, and I knew that this would hinder me from working. I had no savings, no safety net, and my chance to be hired by Gilbert was very slim, knowing the academy was only 14 weeks away, and it would be at least 8 weeks until I could return to picking up more than 30lbs. Another circumstance where I could see the finish line of my goal, and could not cross it. 

Recovery, Depression, and Cookies

When I got home from the hospital, the postpartum depression hit fast. I had no baby to hold, yet my body didn't know the difference. I felt alien in my own body, captive even. Mentally, I could run for miles. I DID run for 16 miles last week while my fallopian tube was rupturing… but physically, I needed assistance to even move from couch to bathroom. I went from being strong and independent to depending on a man I just met. 

After a week of my CrossFit community dropping off meals and loving on me in ways I never expected, I felt the urge to bake cookies for my friend who had just experienced ACL surgery. Brad lifted the stand mixer onto the counter, as I still couldn't lift more than 10lbs. I started to bake, and cry, and bake, and weep. I couldn't physically exert all the sorrow and grief and confusion I felt, but I could bake something to comfort my friend. I HAD to do something to comfort someone, even if it didn't change my situation. 

Taste the Cookies That Started It All

Shop our OG Dough, the first recipe that brought comfort to my friend.

The First Orders: Black Magic in a Cookie Jar

I delivered a cookie jar to my friend. Her text came instantly: "What's in these? Black magic? You NEED to sell these."

It was November. I had no income or way to give my two daughters a Christmas. So I tried. I baked. I sold cookies to my CrossFit community. Orders poured in, far more than I expected.

Through this, Brad was steady, supportive… encouraging. Lifting the stand mixer when I couldn't, running to the store when I was short on brown sugar, finding our first market, legitimizing our cottage license… He believed in me before I believed in myself. At our first 10-15 markets, I was too shy to pitch my cookies to potential buyers, yet he claimed my cookies were worth their $5.

Our CrossFit community believed in us from day one. Now, you can too.

Try our bestsellers with premium protein blends, real butter, and zero palm oil.

The Scheming Cookie Was Born

The Scheming Cookie was born out of grief, loss, and resilience. What began as a way to cope has become a protein-packed gourmet cookie brand built on grit, healing, comfort, and love.

Today, our cookies aren't just indulgent desserts; they're proof that beautiful things can rise from the ashes even when life reroutes you.