Grief From the Valley: Part 3 — Holding Space for Both

The Tension No One Talks About

There is a tension I live in now.

A space that doesn’t make sense to people who have not walked through fire and still chosen to breathe.

It’s the space where grief and gratitude sit at the same table.

Where loss and life coexist.

Where I can mourn deeply… and still laugh from my belly in the same day.

And if I’m being honest—

that confuses people.

Because people want grief to look one way.

They want it to be linear, predictable, palatable.

But grief, real grief—the kind that changes your name and your DNA…

it doesn’t perform.

It holds.

What You See vs. What I Carry

Most of you who follow me, who read my words, who sit with me in these moments—

you know about my losses.

You’ve walked with me through the valley.

You’ve seen the devastation.

You’ve felt the weight of what it means to lose children.

But what many of you don’t know…

Is that in the midst of that same life—

I am still mothering.

I have a son, Nolin who will be two next month.

And I’ve held that close.

Not because I’m hiding…

but because when life has been as fragile as mine has,

you learn to protect what is still breathing.

You learn that everything doesn’t belong to everybody.

“Privacy is not secrecy. It is stewardship.”

The Sacred Work of Holding Both

There is a sacredness in holding space for both.

For honoring the child I lost…

while nurturing the child I get to hold.

For allowing myself to cry over what is no longer here…

while being fully present for what still is.

And some days…

that feels like tearing in two directions.

Because joy can feel heavy

when it sits next to grief.

And grief can feel louder

when you’re trying to celebrate life.

God Never Asked Me to Choose

But God…

God never asked me to choose one.

He never said I had to abandon joy to prove my love for what I lost.

He never said I had to silence my grief to be grateful for what remains.

He said:

“To everything there is a season…” — Ecclesiastes 3:1

Not a single season.

Not a divided life.

But a life full of seasons that can exist at the same time.

Motherhood in Two Realities

So I am learning—

not perfectly, but intentionally—

to hold both.

To honor Jaxon and Darren…

with my tears, my memory, my voice.

And to honor my living child…

with my presence, my laughter, my protection.

Because both deserve a whole mother.

Not a fragmented one.

Why I Don’t Share Everything

Some of you may not understand why I don’t share everything.

Why some parts of my life feel guarded.

But hear me when I say this:

Privacy is not secrecy.

It is stewardship.

Even Jesus withdrew.

Even He chose what to reveal and when.

“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” — Luke 5:16

So if I hold some things close…

it’s because they are sacred.

Not because they are absent.

“Grief taught me that life is not either/or. It is both/and.”

The Both/And Life

Grief taught me that life is not either/or.

It is both/and.

I can be broken

and still be building.

I can be grieving

and still be grateful.

I can carry loss

and still nurture life.

Where Healing Begins

And maybe…

that’s where healing really begins.

Not in choosing sides—

but in learning how to live fully in the tension.

If you’re in a place where you feel pulled in two directions…

where you’re trying to figure out how to hold what hurts

and what heals at the same time—

Let this be your permission:

You don’t have to choose.

God is big enough to sit with you in both.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

Close to the brokenhearted…

not after they heal.

So today, I will hold both.

The ache.

And the gift.

The memory.

And the moment.

The loss.

And the life still in my arms.

And I will not apologize for surviving in a way that honors them all.

4 months and the rest of my days to go.....