Parenting While Grieving.

I’m grieving the mother I lost. The one who shaped me, hurt me, held me, and left behind a silence I still don’t know how to fill. I’m grieving the mother I wanted to be, the one who would never repeat the harm, who would always know the right words, who would raise her children in a home untouched by trauma. And I’m grieving the family I envisioned for my children. The softness. The safety. The generational healing. The version of us that never got to exist.

Parenting while grieving means holding my daughter’s hand while my own heart breaks. It means making breakfast with tears in my throat. It means showing up, again and again, even when I feel like I’m failing. I wanted to give her a mother who was whole. Instead, I’m giving her a mother who is honest. A mother who says, I’m hurting, but I’m here. A mother who chooses tenderness, even when it costs everything.

I’m learning to honor the grief without letting it swallow me. I’m learning to celebrate the small moments, the laughter, the quiet connection, the days we make it through. This isn’t the family I imagined. But it’s the one I’m building, breath by breath. And that, too, is sacred.