
I'm here to help light up the darkness, inspire, and help other mums feel seen and less alone through my musings on life, motherhood, and mental health, intertwined with my faith and grief. This is a space for REAL motherhood - the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Here, I promise to be open, vulnerable, and honest.
Here, you are seen, and you are heard.
This will be my second Mother’s Day since we lost our precious boy, and just like last year, the lead up to it has been bringing up a lot of feelings and thoughts.
There was a time when my faith felt like something solid that I could always rely on. I knew what I believed, I knew who I prayed to, and I was confident that my faith was strong enough to fuel my prayers so that God would always come through for me. But then the thing I prayed hardest for in my entire life didn’t happen.
It's been close to 2 years since we lost our precious boy. I’ve been surviving that long now that it might slip some people’s minds that I’ve gone through something I’d never wish on my worst enemy. What they don’t realise is that I’ve “survived” or made it easy for people to forget because I’ve gotten so adept at putting on a mask.
“Comparison is the thief of joy.” You all know the saying, or similar quotes like “Run your own race” and “Stay in your own lane”. And no doubt you’ve all either been told or have told yourself to stop comparing yourself to others. But there’s a particular comparison that’s quietly stealing your joy, and it’s not what you think.

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