A Love That Never Ends

Mother’s Day has always felt a little different to me.

For some, it’s simple. It’s breakfast in bed, handmade cards, soft laughter in the kitchen, and a lifetime of steady memories that feel warm and safe. And while I love that, while I celebrate that, my experience with motherhood began in a much more complex place. It was shaped by absence just as much as it was shaped by love.

Growing up in foster care changes you.

It teaches you, at a very young age, that stability is not guaranteed. That love can feel temporary. That you sometimes have to grow up faster than you should, learning how to read rooms, protect your heart, and become your own sense of safety. There were moments that felt uncertain, moments that felt heavy, and moments where I quietly asked myself questions no child should have to ask.

Why me

What did I do wrong

What does real love even feel like

But in the middle of all of that, there was also something else. There was resilience being built. There was awareness. And there was a quiet promise forming inside of me that I didn’t even realize at the time.

One day, I will do this differently.

One day, I will become the mother I needed.

And one of the greatest blessings in my life, one of the steady lights through all of that, was my grandmother.

She stepped in wherever she could. Not always in big, grand ways, but in the ways that mattered most. She showed up. She listened. She loved me in a way that felt consistent, grounded, and real. She became a safe place in a world that didn’t always feel safe.

She also taught me something that would later shape everything in my life: faith.

Not just in a religious sense, but in a deeper, rooted belief that there is something greater guiding us. That even in the hardest seasons, there is purpose. That you are never truly alone, even when it feels like you are.

I didn’t always understand it then. When you’re a child navigating instability, it’s hard to see the bigger picture. But looking back now, I can see how much those moments, those lessons, and her presence shaped the woman I’ve become.

And now, as a mother myself, I feel it all come full circle.

Motherhood, for me, isn’t just about raising a child. It’s about rewriting a story.

It’s about creating the kind of love that feels safe. The kind of home that feels steady. The kind of environment where my daughter, Tateonna, never has to question if she is wanted, if she is loved, or if she belongs.

Because she does. Fully. Completely. Unconditionally.

Being her mom has healed parts of me I didn’t even know were still hurting.

There’s something powerful about looking at your child and realizing that you get to be everything you once needed. Every hug that lingers a little longer. Every “I’m proud of you.” Every moment of showing up, even on the hard days.

Especially on the hard days.

Because motherhood isn’t perfect. It’s not always soft and easy and beautifully curated the way social media sometimes makes it look. There are moments of exhaustion, moments of doubt, moments where you wonder if you’re doing enough or getting it right.

And if I’m being honest, those moments can hit deeper when you didn’t have a clear blueprint growing up.

When you didn’t always have an example to follow, you sometimes question everything.

Am I doing this right

Is this enough

What if I mess this up

But what I’ve learned is this: love, when it’s real and intentional, is enough.

Not perfect love. Not flawless love. But present love. Consistent love. Honest love.

And that’s what I strive to give her every single day.

Tateonna has this light about her that reminds me why this all matters. She is strong, kind, intuitive, and full of life in a way that feels so pure. Watching her grow, watching her discover who she is, watching her move through the world with confidence, it’s one of the greatest honors of my life.

And sometimes, I catch myself watching her in quiet moments and thinking…

This is what I needed.

Not in a sad way, but in a reflective, full-circle kind of way. Because instead of staying stuck in what I didn’t have, I’ve been able to create something new. Something better. Something rooted in intention.

There’s a quote that has stayed with me for years: be the person you needed when you were younger.

And I carry that into everything I do as a mother.

I try to be patient, even when I’m tired.

I try to listen, even when life feels busy.

I try to create space for her to express herself, to feel seen, to feel heard.

Because I know what it feels like to long for that.

And I also know how powerful it is when you receive it.

Mother’s Day, for me, is not just about celebrating motherhood as it is. It’s about honoring the journey that led me here. The hard chapters. The growth. The people who stepped in when they didn’t have to. The lessons that shaped me.

It’s about my grandmother, who showed me what strength and faith look like in action.

It’s about the younger version of myself, who held onto hope even when things felt uncertain.

And it’s about the mother I am today, doing her best every single day to create something beautiful out of everything she’s been through.

If you’ve ever had a complicated relationship with motherhood, whether as a daughter or as a mom, I want you to know this:

You are not defined by what you lacked.

You are defined by what you choose to create.

You have the power to break cycles. To build new ones. To love in a way that feels different, deeper, and more intentional.

And that matters more than anything.

This Mother’s Day, I’m choosing to celebrate all of it.

The past that shaped me.

The woman I’ve become.

And the little girl who made me a mother.

Because in loving her, I’ve learned how to love myself more fully too.

And maybe that’s the most beautiful part of all of this.

Motherhood didn’t just give me a daughter. It gave me healing …

Happy Mothers Day to everyone 💕