There are moments in life when everything changes. Sometimes, we see them coming—turning points marked by time, choice, or circumstance. Other times, they arrive quietly, catching us off guard. Either way, they change us—inviting us into something deeper, something unknown, something new.
I stand in one of those moments now.
Soon, I will bring life into the world.
With every passing day, I feel the weight of it—not just the physical changes but the emotional and mental unfolding that comes with stepping into something I have never known before. It is humbling and vast, a reminder that life is not only about moving forward but about expanding, about becoming.
And yet, as new as this feels, it is also deeply familiar. Because, in many ways, aren’t we always beginning again? Every morning we wake. Every time we choose love over fear. Every time we forgive, let go, trust. Every time we soften into the unknown, even when it terrifies us.
But this moment also carries something more—something that stretches beyond this single beginning.
I lost my mother at a young age. Her absence shaped me in ways I am still uncovering, and now, as I prepare to bring a child into the world, I feel the depth of that loss in a new and profound way. There are questions I wish I could ask her. I wish I could ask how she felt in this moment—if she, too, stood at the edge of something unknown, equal parts excited and afraid. Wisdom I long to hear, moments I wish she could witness. And yet, in ways I never expected, I feel closer to her now than ever before.
Because I am becoming her—somebody’s mother.
There is something both tender and powerful in this realization. The love she gave me, though cut short, lives on in me. And now, as I prepare to give that same love to my child, I realize that she has never truly been gone. She is in the way I will hold my child close, in the way I will whisper reassurances, in the strength I will pass down.
A new beginning is not just a single event. It is a way of being. It is learning, over and over, to meet ourselves with love in the midst of change.
The Art of Holding Ourselves with Love
For a long time, I believed love was something to be earned—something given in exchange for doing enough, being enough, proving enough. But now, as I prepare to bring a child into the world, I realize that love is not a transaction. It is not a reward. It is something we are born into, something we already are.
And yet, how often do we withhold it from ourselves?
We are so quick to extend kindness to others, to offer reassurance, to remind them of their worth. But when it comes to our own hearts, we hesitate. We let old stories tell us that we are not ready yet, not whole yet, not enough yet.
And yet, we are.
I am learning this in real time—learning to love myself in the way I hope my child will love themselves. Learning to speak to myself gently, to meet my body and mind with compassion, to stop waiting for a perfect version of myself to arrive before I decide I am worthy.
Because I am worthy now.
And so are you.
If you are standing at the edge of something new, if you are feeling uncertain, if you are questioning whether you are enough—pause. Place your hand over your heart. Breathe in deeply. And remind yourself: I am here. I am enough. I am worthy of love.
Acceptance: Embracing the Unfolding
Beginnings are often messy. They do not arrive neatly wrapped, with clear instructions on how to navigate them. They stretch us, challenge us, ask us to let go of who we thought we were so we can step into who we are becoming.
Yet, how often do we resist them?
We cling to what we know, even when it no longer fits. We hesitate in the face of change, not because we don’t want it, but because we fear what it will ask of us.
But what if we met the unknown with acceptance instead of resistance?
Not passive acceptance—the kind that gives up or resigns itself to whatever comes—but an active, open-hearted embrace of life as it is. What if we stopped waiting for things to be perfect and chose instead to trust that even the messy, unfinished parts of our journey are leading us somewhere important?
I have had to sit with this question often. As my body changes, as my emotions shift, as I move closer to a future I cannot fully see, I remind myself: It’s okay to not have all the answers. It’s okay to be in transition. It’s okay to trust the process.
And the same is true for you.
Whatever new chapter you are stepping into—whether it is a fresh start, a healing journey, or simply another day of choosing yourself—know this: You do not have to have everything figured out. You do not have to be fearless. You only have to be willing.
The Quiet Power of Gratitude
In the middle of all this change, I have found an anchor—something that grounds me even when everything else feels uncertain.
Gratitude.
Not the kind that ignores hardship. Not the kind that forces positivity. But the kind that reminds me, even in the hardest moments, that there is beauty here.
I find it in small things: the rhythm of my breath, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the way my body carries me through each day, the quiet presence of someone who loves me.
And I find it in the big things too: the way life moves forward even when I am afraid, the lessons wrapped in every challenge, the love that has carried me through even my darkest days.
Gratitude does not erase struggle. It does not make the path easier. But it changes the way we walk it.
So, I choose to begin each day with a simple thought:
I am grateful to be here. I am grateful for this moment. I am grateful for the chance to grow, to love, to become.
And I hope you do too.
Walking Forward with Trust
If there is anything I have learned, it is this: Life will always bring us to new beginnings. Some will be joyful. Some will be painful. Some will arrive when we least expect them.
But no matter how they come, we have a choice. We can resist them, holding on to what was, afraid to step into what could be.
Or we can trust.
Trust that we are capable. Trust that we are strong. Trust that even in uncertainty, we are being guided.
I do not know exactly what the future holds for me. I do not know the shape of the mother I will become, the challenges I will face, the ways I will be changed.
But I do know this: I will meet it all with love. I will embrace the unknown with an open heart. I will trust that this new beginning—like every one before it—is exactly where I am meant to be.
And wherever you are in your own journey, I hope you do the same.
Because life is always inviting us forward. And when we meet it with love, acceptance, and gratitude, we find that every ending is, in truth, just the beginning of something beautiful.
A Love Letter to the Soul
If there is one thing I have come to know in this season of change, it is this:
You are enough.
Not when you reach a certain goal. Not when you become someone different. Not when you have healed all your wounds.
But now. In this moment. As you are.
You are worthy of love, not because of what you do, but because of who you are.
You are whole, even in your healing.
You are seen, even when you feel invisible.
You are guided, even when the path is unclear.
And you are deeply, unconditionally loved.
This is your new beginning. Step into it with an open heart.
Because something beautiful is unfolding within you.
And it always has been.
