Mother's Day 2026

May 10, 2026

Today is Mother’s Day—the first since my mother passed. And today, I find myself holding both grief and gratitude.

I am grateful for her memory.

Grateful for her love.

Grateful for the people who shared a special bond with her and carry pieces of her story too.

As I remember her, I think about the woman she was. She had a hard life. She carried burdens many never saw. And yet, she overcame so much.

She grew. She changed. She fought to become a better version of herself—not only for herself, but for her family.

She was imperfect, just as all of us are. We are all still learning, still navigating our flaws, still trying to understand who we are in this world.

And maybe becoming a mother myself has made me understand that even more deeply.

I think back to the day I became a mom nearly nine years ago and all that motherhood has asked of me—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Each pregnancy carried its own story.

With Aria, I experienced a hard labor and delivery that challenged me deeply. And in the days that followed, I walked through postpartum depression—a season that tested me in ways I never expected and one that quietly reshaped me.

With Michael, pregnancy brought its own emotional battles, including prenatal depression that weighed heavily on both my mind and heart.

With Melody, I experienced something different. Peace. Joy. I was able to stay home for 11 months, and those were some of the sweetest days of my life—simply being present, nurturing my baby, building a home, and embracing motherhood and marriage in a way I had longed for.

Then came Gabriel, my final pregnancy, when I was 38 years old. It was physically exhausting, but overall, a good experience. By then, I knew my body better. I knew the labor room better. I knew myself better.

And now, with deep gratitude, I can close the chapter of pregnancy, labor, and delivery—not with sadness, but with peace—and fully celebrate the beautiful children I’ve been entrusted with.

Motherhood has changed the way I see my own mother.

Because now I understand sacrifice differently.

I understand exhaustion differently.

I understand love differently.

And while no mother is perfect, love still leaves a legacy.

My hope is that the legacy I leave my children is one of love, kindness, wisdom, and generosity.

That they would learn to be wise with their time.

That they would understand how to build wealth—not simply for themselves, but as a tool for stewardship, impact, and helping others.

That they would know how to give freely of their time, resources, and compassion to those in need.

That they would become people who help create something bigger than themselves—something that serves others well and reaches people with love.

Today, I grieve as a daughter.

And I give thanks as a mother.

Grateful for the woman who raised me.

Grateful for the children who shaped me.

Grateful for the imperfect, beautiful gift of motherhood.

Grateful for my mother in law who my children get to grow up with and love for many more years.