12/19/2025
Yesterday was the 10-year anniversary of my momma's death.
🤍
And if I’m being honest, I didn’t need strength.
I didn’t need solutions.
I didn’t need to be “the capable one.”
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I needed a hug.
I needed someone to scoop me up and say, “I see you. You’ve got this.”
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Instead, I got more responsibility and push back when there should have been grace, compassion, and understanding.
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I’ve been sick — really sick.
A stomach bug that had me fighting for my life on the toilet while one of my toddlers refused to sleep anywhere except on my chest. Have a video of her snoring away while I am just in the thick of it.
Then the Flu.
Plus RSV in this house.
Days and days of little bodies needing comfort while my own was running on empty.
Trying to help a 3yr old understand why her body is violently removing stuff in the way that it is while she is resisting it, is hard.
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And still — I showed up.
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Because there are no breaks here.
No sick days for momma here.
No pause button when you’re the one holding it all together 24/7.
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So yesterday, while grieving my mom…
while sick myself…
while caring for two sick babies…
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I did what I always do.
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I cared for the children.
And I cared for the mom who was caring for the children the best I could, through moments of tears, frustration, and meltdowns.
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I became the hug I needed.
The reassurance I wasn’t given.
The steady presence no one thought to offer.
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This is what my life actually looks like.
Not the highlight reel.
Not the “you’re so strong” version.
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Just a woman doing the work — relentlessly —
with very little acknowledgment,
and even less rest.
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Momma…
this is the part of me you raised.
The part that keeps going.
The part that mothers through grief.
The part that turns exhaustion into love because there’s no other option.
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I wish you were here to hold me.
But since you’re not...
🤍
I’ll keep holding my children the way I wish someone would hold me.
