Motherhood Edit
Welcome to Motherhood Edit—a quiet space for refining the rhythms of parenting with grace, intention, and resilience. Here, you’ll find curated routines, wellness reflections, and gentle edits that honor both the chaos and the beauty of raising children. It’s motherhood, softened and shaped to fit the life you’re growing.
Learning to Live in Limbo
Waiting has become its own season in my life. I thought today would bring clarity, but instead I walked out of the doctor’s office with more uncertainty—“atypia of undetermined significance.” Not benign, not malignant, just somewhere in between.
So I wait. Six more weeks of limbo. Six more weeks of waking up with the same unanswered question echoing in my chest.
It’s exhausting, but I’ve learned to anchor myself in small rituals: moving my body to build strength, nourishing myself with whole foods, listening to my children’s laughter, showing up for work. These rhythms don’t erase the stress, but they help me carry it.
Christmas will come whether I have answers or not. I’ll bake cookies, wrap gifts, and light the tree, even if my own heart feels heavy. Pretending isn’t denial—it’s protection. My children deserve joy, not worry.
Limbo is uncomfortable, but it’s clarifying. It reminds me that even when the future feels uncertain, the present is still here.
65 Days in Limbo
Sixty-five days. That’s how long I’ve been waiting. Not for something exciting. Not for something planned. For answers. For clarity. For the kind of news that can change everything.
This isn’t my first time waiting for cancer results. It’s my second in less than a year. And while the tests are different, the ache is the same.
I’m still packing lunches. Still wiping noses. Still whispering “We’re okay” at bedtime. But inside, I’m unraveling.
This year has burned through so much—my peace, my plans, my sense of safety. And yet, somehow, I’m still here.
Still rising. Still planting seeds in the ash. Still believing that maybe—just maybe—the wildflowers are already on their way.
Parenting Through Illness: What I Told My Children
Parenting through illness is not a story of grand declarations—it’s a quiet choreography of care. In this post, I share how we navigated a season of diagnosis and recovery with gentleness, honesty, and the kind of love that adapts. From naming without burdening to asking for help with grace, this is a reflection on how we held our children close while the ground shifted beneath us—and how healing unfolded in small, sacred ways.
Three Costumes & One Grateful Heart
This Halloween, every detail feels like a gift. From Lily’s velvet costume to the twins’ coordinated wagon ride, I’m not chasing milestones—I’m soaking in the sweetness. In this post, I reflect on parenting through recovery, the quiet joy of neighborhood traditions, and the kind of gratitude that lives in fleece, tulle, and the sound of children laughing under porch lights.
Ashes & Wildflowers: A Name Forged in Survival and Growth
Ashes & Wildflowers isn’t just a name—it’s a story. A reflection of survival, motherhood, and the quiet beauty that blooms in unexpected places. In this post, I share the meaning behind the name, the journey through cancer and into healing, and the daily rhythms that shape my life as a single mom of three. If you’re navigating your own season of change, may this space feel like a garden—messy, magical, and full of growth.