How to Open Up Yourself to Motherly Support Post Loss, Guest Writer: Laura Duck

After an incredibly brave and awe-inspiring fight with cancer I lost my mom when I was 17, about 9 years ago. Even though her cancer journey was over 5 years, nothing can prepare you for the day your mother takes her last breath. It was a constant rollercoaster of hope and disappointment, accompanied by the dreaded teen years of hormones, hate and confusion. I was difficult to say the least.

After mum died on 23rd October 2011, I really struggled to let people in as I was stuck in this constant thought cycle that no one was my mum and therefore no one could comfort me, advise me or even love me because they weren’t her. I equally developed really unhealthy relationships with mother-like figures, especially the mother of my friend’s. They would naturally want to care for me and I would latch onto the glimmer of hope that they would love me like my mum did and everyone else wasn’t good enough. Both led to even more disappointment as I was ultimately searching for a square to fit my circle shaped hole.

It wasn’t until I started therapy 4 years later that my perspective changed. My therapist carried out an exercise with me that helped me to see that not one person can fill my mum's role but tiny bits of lots of people can help. She started by asking me to think of all the things I missed about my mum, focusing on 3 areas; her head, her arms and her legs. For example:

Her head - I missed her pride, her wisdom, her perspective, her advice and support

Her arms - I missed her hugs, her guidance, her cooking, her comfort and protection

Her legs - I missed her walking with me; whether that be her understanding and being able to walk in my shoes, or physically to go places with.

it could be things I missed physically or emotionally, literally anything I longed for and my therapist wrote them down around her.

I later transferred what was written onto a piece of paper that surrounded a photo of my mum and I.

Later in my sessions I was asked to write a list of my support network. This could be anyone from my dad and best friend to a colleague or a neighbor. Anybody who provided support in any kind of way. Once this list was complete, I was asked to match the list with the things I missed about mum; who could help me and provide me with the things that I was missing. Slowly but surely I realized that although I was right no one can comfort, advise or love me like my mum, there are many people who can comfort, advise and love me anyway and give many of the things I missed. 

I later used this to create flash cards. I wrote out all the things I missed and on the back I wrote out all the names of the people in my support network that I could reach out to. This meant in any moment of panic or frustration, all I needed to do was identify what it was I was longing for and the people I could lean on were there, on the back; all I needed to do was call.

It is easy to isolate yourself in grief, especially when the person you lost left such a gaping hole behind, but it is so important to remember that you are not alone. 

I learned that no one can replace my mum and that is in fact the beauty of it.

My name is Laura, I am 26 years old and I was born and raised in the UK. I love to travel and have spent many of the years following my mum’s death exploring the world and carrying her spirit with me. She keeps me safe and is my own St Christopher.

You Can't Choose Your Parents but You Can Choose to Get Better Not Bitter, Guest Writer: Laura Jackson

   As I think back on my childhood with my mom, I must believe that the mom God gave me was the best one for me.  At times, it is difficult to believe because of the relationship we have. She was a great cook I can never deny that. She literally could make anything taste wonderful. She made sure that if we wanted to be in a sport, play an instrument, or do anything she found a way so that we were able to do those things. She also was the type of mom our friends loved to be around because she was “cool “. That was great especially as we became teenagers. Although she was, in general, not very nurturing I know she did the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time. She was a young mom raising three kids all on her own. She left my alcoholic dad when I was only 15 months old.  I was the youngest of three. We lived with my grandparents for about two years before she remarried and moved to California. That marriage lasted about five or six years. We went to the local Catholic Church on Christmas and Easter. We had to do the First Communion and Confirmation classes. But that was the extent of any religion in our lives.  

 In all my growing up, my biological father did not pay a dime of child support. Instead my grandfather helped us more than I ever knew. And later in life I did find out he was the one financially supporting us. My mom often times would get angry very quickly and our consequences were very unreasonable. She was into watching her soap operas, therefore we only had certain times we are able to talk with her. If you had a bad day at school, that was not the time to talk to her because she was watching one of her shows. Homework was important to her but for us to do. I don’t recall her ever helping us figure it out. We often had to do standards for her if we misbehaved. Doing chores was also a big part of growing up. She was young and she would date. As we got older, she would take off for a weekend and leave three teenagers home alone. It did not take long for us teenagers to find “things to do.“ I am surprised none of us ended up in jail, on drugs, an alcoholic or married multiple times.    

I can only recall one time when my mother told us she loved us and that was after a major earthquake in 1971. I knew she did because “she was my mom” but we didn’t hear it. My mother also felt as the mother, and later as a grandmother, she had a right to do or say things because she “had her reasons”. This often resulted in overstepping boundaries, broken trust and only my feelings hurt. For years I tried to communicate to her about how this is not okay, but she was “always right”.  

I realized when I talked to my biological father on his deathbed, he was not only a very passive man but a very narcissistic man.  My mother was a narcissistic woman in a very different way. Sad to say for the last 10 years the relationship with my mother has been very rocky if nonexistent. I know in my heart I have tried to work things out, I am not perfect, and I have tried to apologize when I know I have been wrong. I am not trying to bash my parents I am just trying to tell you this is how it was. To this day my mother does not have a relationship with three out of four of her children because of the reasons above.   

Then there was my grandmother. Known as Mama Lupe to us.  She was way too young to be a grandmother when my mom had my brother at 19 years old. Maybe because she got to be the grandmother instead of the mom, she was fun and became my saving grace, my angel and my rock. As I grew older, I spent more time with her. It didn’t matter what we did I just loved to be with her. In fact, I was known as “little mama Lupe“ because I was so much like her. I learned a lot about life and living between her and my grandfather. I was able to help take care of her in her last few years. It wasn’t a whole lot because of the demands of work, raising kids and living out of state. Yet, it was an honor to be there and care for her. She passed away In September 2008. Things were not good when she passed between my mother and the rest of the family. I was not “allowed”, or able if you were to ask my mother, to attend her memorial service because of the decisions my mother made. It was one of the hardest times in my life. Many have said that my mother was jealous of my relationship with her. I was told that I loved her more than anybody else in the family and she loved me as much. That’s hard to believe when she had four kids. I know we had a very special relationship that was different from anybody else’s. There are very few people that have left this earthly life that I miss every day. She is at the top of that list.   

Anyway, just giving you some background of my life, I want to share what I have learned from my mother and my grandmother. First, we can’t choose the parents we have but we do have the choice of what we do with the knowledge and experience that we are given and raised with. You and I have a choice… “Are we going to become bitter or better?” I believe I have become better. Many people that know my story and/or walked through some of it with me have told me that as well. I count the Lord’s saving grace and mercy as my number one source of help to not getting bitter, angry, victimized or resentful.  As a mother of two boys, now grown and married, I worked hard to have a healthy relationship with them. That means teaching them mutual respect, keeping trust, that their word was their word and to have healthy boundaries. Even while they were young. I was criticized as a young Mom for talking things out with my kids. But I felt it was necessary not only to teach them communication but to let them know that even when they misbehaved, I still loved them. They must’ve heard it four or five times a day that I loved them, I would just say it randomly. I may not have liked them at the moment but my love for them never changed. And I know to this day they still know that. I felt I was teaching respect and boundaries that I did not grow up with. My boys are very family oriented and respectful. It is a blessing to hear others tell me what wonderful men they are. This is my reward as a mother.

One thing I realized is God has been faithful and even when my step dad stepped out of my life, God brought other father figures into my life. One was a teacher in high school that just kept “tabs” on me. And after high school, one from a church I attended that I affectionately call “Poppy” still to his day...and his wife I referred to as mom. I have adopted them - they did not have a choice.  I was also blessed with a wonderful mother-in-law. Whom the Lord found fit for me to care for during her last five years. So many people thought she was my mom because of our relationship. When she passed, I had peace. She was my mother in law, not my mom and she was not well. It is hard to see daughters share in a blessed healthy relationship with their mothers and even harder to sympathize with those who have lost their mother. Because I never had that kind of relationship with mine and was robbed of the closest one next to that. I have to look “down” my family tree so to speak. Praying that my boys feel blessed that I am their mom, my daughter in laws that I am their mother in law and my grandchildren that I get to be their grandmother (aka Mumum) and the many other kids I affectionately referred to as “one of my own”.    

God has shown me all along he is watching over me and helping me to be not only a better mom and wife but hopefully a better person. Somehow in my story, I pray somebody can be encouraged.  I won’t necessarily blame my mom for what wasn’t “right” while growing up because I have learned from the things that I disagreed with and I decided to do the opposite. No matter what life throws at you, you can make lemonade. 

---

Laura Jackson

Laura Jackson is thankfully employed in Southern California while completely loving being a grandma!

What it's like to be a mother to a special needs child, Guest Writer: Sandy Harris

Mother’s Day is a mixed bag of emotions for me.  Being the mother of a special needs child has been a journey of pain, blessings, disappointments, pure joy, frustration and ultimate peace.

I am probably the most non-PC person you might meet and when describing my daughter to people I use words like mentally retarded and people cringe.  Well I like the word retarded.  I explained to my daughter many many years ago that it isn’t a bad word.  I explained to her that she should be proud to be called retarded. I explained to her what a Bonsai tree was.  That people purposely retarded the growth of the tree to make an even more beautiful tree. I explained that it was slow growing and that was no different from that of her growth mentally or physically.   I explained to her that she was a “different kind of beautiful” and told her that when someone called her retarded to say thank you.

Being the mother of a special needs child is met, sometimes daily, with challenges that most would never think of.  I am given advice, to this day, on what would be best for my daughter. How I should or shouldn’t act or things I should or shouldn’t do for her.  Well, I was told that my daughter would not live – she is now 40.

I was told she would never sit up – I just kept sitting her up when she fell until she could finally sit up on her own.

I was told she would never walk – I walked her on top of my feet until she was able to wobble on her own - she walks now, with assistance, but she walks.

I was told she would never talk – I cannot tell you how many times I have had to ask her to please be quiet to give my ears a rest.  So I accept the advice, pray about it and then do what I think will work best for my daughter.

She is challenging to say the least, Autism, Mental Retardation (Developmentally Delayed for those more PC than I), CP, Dystonia, Anxiety Disorders and the list could go on.

This is not a ride for the faint hearted, but, I‘ve always loved a good roller coaster! That is the ride the Lord gave me with my daughter. She is my daughter.  A different kind of beautiful. A challenge. A painful but beautiful walk that the Lord gave me.  He gave me because he trusted me with her.  Have I failed? Of course, I have. Have I had my doubts?  Sometimes daily. But, I would not trade being the mother of this most challenging and frustrating daughter for anything in the world.

I can truly say that the only reason I have made it this far is because I trust in the Lord that allowed me to be the mom to a most incredible human that is flawed by worldly standards but is a most amazing being by the Lord’s standards and it is an honor and a blessing to be her mom.

When my daughter was young, a mom of another special needs child gave me a copy of a poem by Erma Bombeck.  It spoke volumes into my life and helped me countless times when challenged by yet another surgery or another physical therapy session or just one of those days when she would not stop screaming,………… the words spoke strength to me.

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures and a couple by habit.

This year nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen?

Somehow I visualize God hovering over earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As He observes, He instructs His angels to make notes in a giant ledger.

"Armstrong, Beth; son. Patron saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."

"Forrest, Marjorie; daughter. Patron saint, Cecelia."

"Rutledge, Carrie; twins. Patron saint, Matthew."

Finally He passes a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child."

The angel is curious. "Why this one God? She's so happy."

"Exactly," smiles God, "Could I give a handicapped child to a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel."

"But has she patience?" asks the angel.

"I don't want her to have too much patience or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wears off, she'll handle it."

"I watched her today. She has that feeling of self and independence that is so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has her own world. She has to make her live in her world and that's not going to be easy."

"But, Lord, I don't think she even believes in you." God smiles, "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect - she has just enough selfishness." The angel gasps - "selfishness? is that a virtue?"

God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a 'spoken word'". She will never consider a "step" ordinary. When her child says 'Momma' for the first time, she will be present at a miracle, and will know it!"

"I will permit her to see clearly the things I see...ignorance, cruelty, prejudice....and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life, because she is doing My work as surely as if she is here by My side".

"And what about her Patron saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in mid-air.

God smiles, "A mirror will suffice."

So happy mother’s day month to all those with “normal” children and to those with a child that is “a different kind of beautiful.” Please know that your journey is amazing and filled with challenges that most will never know – so that makes you a special kind of beautiful too!

---

Sandy Harris

Sandy has background in social work but now focuses on creating! Check out Sandra’s Heart Art.

You can find her on IG and FB.

Days are Long Years are Short as a Mom, Guest Writer: London Murphy

How do you put motherhood into words? It’s the battle of unreachable balance. Of losing your identity as an autonomous individual, while trying to hold onto the you you were created to be. It is the act of giving yourself away every minute of every day, while knowing that you still need a whole self to be able to give.

Much of motherhood is done in secret. No matter what image you choose to show the world, most of motherhood is done behind closed doors. And that is the rub. That is the part where the lonely creeps in. Where the questions gnaw at your mind. Am I doing enough? Or maybe too much? Is this the right technique? Will I scar my children forever? If I have nothing to show for the day, does it still count?

The truth is the science will always change, and something good will be labeled bad. And something bad will be discovered to be good. The trick is to stick with your instincts. To trust what nature would agree with. The days are long, but the years are short, and there is so much time to be wasted. And no matter how many times you can internalize that, you will still waste it.

There are certain facts about motherhood that take some getting used to: Like always carrying a diaper bag. And wanting to leave your kids in the car when you run a short errand. Leaving a trail of crumbs everywhere you go. Having a mound of snacks on hand at all times and when you go to the beach it looks like you’re moving in. It taking at least an hour and a half to get out the door. Always remembering to bring this or pack that or buy this at the store. Not getting to care for just yourself anymore. Your brain now holds the belongings of many others.Having to say no to outings because you can’t afford a babysitter/don’t want to burden a family member again. Always feeling like a burden. So many times the thoughts have run through my head: “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought the kids. Maybe we should just go.” The shame kicks in.

The trick is to laugh. Laugh when the poop is all over the floor and everyone is missing the other shoe. Because if you don’t laugh, you will probably cry. And laughing takes the power out of the pain.

Motherhood is about failing every day and learning to have grace for yourself because your kids are watching. Learning to apologize when you fail at “mom”ing. It’s about holding onto the future knowing “this too shall pass.” Some days I remember this. Most days I forget. Some days I love my body because it birthed two humans. Other days I compare myself to all the women my age ​and I am jealous of their perfect figures. Nothing is sagging....they haven’t had kids yet.

Some days I want to take pride in my children’s abilities and behavior. Other days I am reminded that if I take credit for their good behavior then I have to take credit for the bad.

Motherhood is about learning to see the world from your child’s eyes and being reminded of beauty again. To encourage creativity and even color outside the lines a little yourself. It’s about trying to remember that your hormones are out of control. And if it took 9+ months to grow a baby, then it should take at ​least​ 9 months to get back to some sort of normalcy. But normal is a facade because every day is different and every day your babies are changing into tiny human beings with distinct personalities, interests, giftings, and flaws. And just when you think you’ve got a hold on parenting, one of them throws a wrench in the whole thing and you’re back to learning and wrestling with the days, your children, the clock, and sometimes God.

Motherhood is about recognizing your finiteness and learning to ask for help, which is the very thing I am the worst at.

Mostly motherhood is about wrestling with your needs and emotions without staying stuck in bitterness. But the truth is, we only have our babies for a short 18 years, if we’re so fortunate, and we have the opportunity to shape how ​we​ see everyday and therefore shape whether ​theywill trust or fear the world.

The poop will get cleaned up, the shoes will probably never be found, and you can’t take anything to heaven with you, except your character and the impact you’ve made on those around you.

Motherhood is about choosing to find gratitude amidst the chaos because there is always joy to be found. 

---

London Murphy

London has a degree in teaching and is a mom to two adorable children under the age of 4. Fun fact she plays guitar and sings beautifully!

You can find her on IG and FB.

Finding Beauty in the Barrenness, Guest Writer: Dora

I grew up taking care of all 6 of my younger siblings. I was the protector and nurturer for them in ways I didn’t even know how, yet I managed. Growing up, my parents where always working to provide for our family of 9. We were young and close in age, left alone to raise ourselves up during the most crucial times of a child's life. Never did I ever think that I wouldn’t be able to have kids of my own. After getting married at a young age, starting a family was no where close to the forefront of my mind. I still needed to finish high school first.

 Who would’ve thought that things would’ve taken a turn for the worst after a few months of marriage.  My body was changing and nothing could explain it. I had gained a significant amount of weight in a span of 3 months. Like 5-6 pant sizes. I lost my menstrual period & no doctor could explain why but default to putting me on the pill. My hair was thinning uncontrollably and it felt like a mental battle just trying to get out of bed. I sought out a couple of doctors that left me feeling confused when no one had answers for me. “I don’t know why you don’t have a period and why you can’t get pregnant,” they shrugged. After frustrating doctor appointments and ultrasounds, a fear that I’ve never had began to sink in, “What if I can’t ever have kids?”

I remember so vividly the day that I walked out of my infertility specialists office. I felt relieved finally being diagnosed with PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome) after years of trying to figure out what was going on with my body- yet also feeling so broken. On my way home, my mind began to flood with the questions and doubts I had about Gods plan for me. 

I always dreamt of being a mom someday but didn’t realize that there was a possibility of facing any hardships until that day when I was faced with reality. Who would’ve thought? I came from a family of 7 kids at the time now 8,  and my husband, a family of 7 as well. We never ever thought that  growing a family was going to be a battle. We didn’t know anyone at the time that had experience or shared in our emotions. We were wrecked with sadness & grief. I don’t remember how long after but I recall an exact moment when I felt God asking me to surrender. Surrender the idea of having a baby, the desire to be a mother, & the brokenness of my body. Quite honestly, I reacted with anger towards God. I plead with God asking Him why He would ever allow something like this to stop us in our path?

On the hardest days where I felt incomplete and broken as a whole woman, I could still cry out to God and remember the promises He’s left for me to meditate and cling to. Believing that He has a purpose and plan to all things whether I understood it or not. But if I wasn’t careful at that time, I would’ve fallen into the grips of being consumed by the vicious cycles of doing everything I could possibly think of to “make” myself pregnant. Then it made sense. I began to understand why He was asking me to surrender & let go of my desire for a child. If I wasn’t careful, I would’ve chased after all the skeptical treatments and medications and filled up my time with research and fall into an endless hole of disappointment & discontentment. Living with no purpose, hope, or joy. Idolizing motherhood & pregnancy.

In that moment of clarity, I made the hardest decision ever. I decided to give up and surrender my dream of becoming a mom. I chose Jesus instead. I grieved the idea of an un-conceived child. You could not understand the pain I felt as I walked toward the foot of the cross with my precious dream wrapped up in a bundle. Laying it before Him and fully giving Him the authority to do what He will with it. In my weakness, He is made strong. This is true. He has carried me through this journey of barrenness for 8 years now. And what I didn’t realize was that when I had chosen to give up my broken heart & dreams to the Lord, He traded it for joy & strength. 

There are still days where I find myself asking God again, “how much longer do I have to wait Lord?” Yet, He is faithful to remind me, “In due time My child. I have something special I’m birthing inside of you. Hold on.” 

Years later, I realized something that God was birthing in me: to speak up & share my story. To build community and encourage others. That was no easy task. Being bi-cultured, there was a crippling fear that enabled me to confidently share these revelations with the world for years. He provided opportunities for me to share with people who came through my life & eventually, the wound became a scar that could be shown for all to see. The Lord began to birth in me, a heart for women & couples who were also treading a similar journey as ours. This is where my blog was born. A safe space to share not just my story but hopefully someday, the stories that God has etched on everyones heart. Stories of suffering, waiting, hoping, & stories of miracles and healing.

If you’re in a season of waiting, whatever it may be, just know that God has something beautiful planned out for you. It’s going to take some time, but do not forget that great things do take time.

Only God can heal our aching hearts & fill the invisible empty spaces inside us. Through our hope in Jesus, we are made whole again. Restoration and healing will look differently for you than it does for me but it’s possible. He has given me a mother-like heart to now enable love, care, & nurture children in my community, around the world, and to every soul that walks into my life. He is making all things new in His time and teaching me to live with joy amidst my suffering. He wants to be the light that radiates through you unto others who’ve felt the same way. 

He is showing me the Beauty of Barrenness.

Grieving the Death of Someone You Never Knew, Guest Writer: Lindsay

When it comes to death and grief, people often say to “think of the good times,” or “cherish the memories.” But what if you didn’t get the chance to know your loved one? What do you do when there aren’t any good times or memories to help you cope with your loss? How do you grieve a relationship you never got to have?

I’ve had to answer these questions myself because my mom was murdered when I was only one year old and unfortunately, I don’t remember her. Growing up without my mother was the hardest experience of my life but I also didn’t know any differently. Yet when I became an adult, I realized how much I missed her and what little right I’d thought I’d had to grieve compared to everyone else. Just because I wasn’t able to develop a relationship with her doesn’t mean my pain should hurt any less but that’s what I used to believe.

Given the tragic and traumatic circumstances of my mom’s death, it’s only natural I’d feel overwhelming anger and sadness. But I ignored and minimized my pain because I couldn’t understand let alone explain the intense yearning I felt for someone I never knew in the first place. Grief is tricky like that. There’s also this widely held belief that what you don’t know or can’t remember won’t affect you so I was afraid others would think I was too much to handle, too sensitive, or seeking attention if I brought it up. The times it did come up were just as challenging though because people would usually shut down or exploit the conversation like it was a soap opera.

For a long time, I acted like nothing was wrong when the truth is, it’s the strangest feeling to mourn someone you never shared your life with. It’s an infinite, massive hole of longing except you don’t even know what you’re pining for. Like wanting to hug or talk to them just one more time yet you can’t imagine what that would’ve been like in the first place. There are endless questions about who they were, what they were like, and what made them tick. At the same time, you’re never satisfied with any details you do get because frankly, you want the chance to know who they were without a third party filling in all the blanks.

In a lot of ways, I felt like an outsider too. Even though I carry the same weight as anyone else who’s lost someone they love, I don’t have the reference of before and after she died. I can’t remember struggling through those year of firsts without her. I can’t relate to the pain of what it’s like to pick up the phone from habit to call her after she’s gone. On the other hand, I know her death shattered me to my core and I’ll never know what life without grief looks like. There are so many things that I compared my unique experience too and it only made me feel more confused and alone.

As I got older, the more I struggled so I had to find ways to create meaning and connection with my mom’s memory to help me cope. I’d spent so much time justifying my pain that I began with giving myself permission to grieve on my own terms instead of believing what society said it should look like. Bereavement is different for all of us and it’s okay if you’re “still” grieving. Your experience is valid and your pain matters no matter how long it’s been.

I also started leaning in to the pain instead of trying to fix it or will it away. We’ve been taught to “do” something with grief but instead it’s about acknowledgement and letting yourself feel whatever comes without shaming yourself out of it. More and more, I’m learning that grief just needs to be seen and brought into the light but that can’t happen when you’re ignoring or judging your feelings. Healing can’t be forced by keeping your grief small.

Another thing that helped was engaging in positive outlets that remind me of my mom, like dragonflies {her spirit symbol}, roosters {she collected them}, and running {she ran races}. I even had my middle name Joy tattooed on my wrist in her handwriting. When I was little, I used to sift through her jewelry box for hours just to feel close to her and that inspired me to make remembrance keepsakes to help you honor your lost loved ones too. Now I get to help others who are suffering while also keeping her memory alive and it’s comforted me more than I could’ve hoped.

There are many meaningful ways to cope but if you don’t know where to start, I created some free resources like journal prompts, music playlists, and self-care reminders to help you connect with your loved one and manage the roller coaster that is life after death.

Very few people talk about bereavement, let alone all the complications that arise from sudden or tragic loss. Grief is lonely enough without thinking you’re not allowed to feel the way you do but as I’ve shared my story more, I realized how many others can relate and that I’m really not alone. Neither are you. 💛

Dear Mom by Becca & Ceci

 As Rebecca and I sat in my dorm room floor in 2011 we decided to lay it all out there. The unanswered questions, fears, and thoughts we had for our moms. The ones we didn't get to ask. While the questions seemed endless, and so easily came to mind like a conversation we've been longing to have, a letter started to form...Dear Mom. We both knew that there would be certain events that would come up in our lives we would desperately want our moms for. They are things that we pictured with our mom by our side. It physically felt good to say the questions I had for my mom, out loud. Even though they remained unanswered, I've seen them be fulfilled in different ways.

In my book Healing, Hope & Wholeness I share Rebecca and I's friendship history and how our paths crossed when I was 17. Our friendship was sparked by a guitar and having someone to harmonize with and has grown into more like soul sisters.

Listen to our song Dear Mom, here.