
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.
Easter is usually seen as a celebration of hope and new beginnings. But for some of us, it can be hard to reconcile the message of resurrection and victory when your life feels more like Good Friday than Easter. So, in today’s blog post, I want to offer a different perspective of the Easter story to help you hold onto hope.

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