Holding Space for Both: A Birthday, A Becoming

April 26th.

Today carries weight.

Today carries breath.

Today carries both.

Today is the day God said no—to everything that tried to take me out, to everything that tried to silence me, to everything that tried to convince me I couldn’t keep going.

And today…

my living son, Nolin, turns two.

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I’m going to tell the truth.

This week tried to take me under.

Not lightly.

Not quietly.

This week pulled me down into a place I know too well…

a place where grief doesn’t visit—it lives.

I have been low.

I have been heavy.

I have felt the ache of Jaxon so deeply that it almost made me disappear from the present.

I didn’t want to show up.

I didn’t want to feel.

I didn’t want to celebrate anything without him.

Because how do you celebrate life…

when you’ve buried it?

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And then Friday came…

and I learned things I didn’t know before.

Things that shook me.

Things that made it feel like I lost him all over again.

Not memory.

Not imagination.

Reality.

The kind that hits your body before your mind can process it.

The kind that makes your chest tighten and your spirit question how you are still standing.

Grief has a way of doing that—

reopening doors you didn’t even know were still unlocked.

It doesn’t ask permission.

It doesn’t check timing.

It just comes.

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And I need to say this out loud for the ones who don’t understand:

Grief can kill you.

Not always physically.

But mentally.

Emotionally.

Spiritually.

It can take over your entire being.

It can convince you that staying down is easier than getting back up.

And this week…

I had to fight.

Not a cute fight.

Not a quiet one.

A real fight.

To get out of the bed.

To quiet my mind.

To not let the darkness make a home in me.

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But here I am.

Still standing.

Still breathing.

Still choosing.

Because today is not just about what I lost…

It’s about what I still have.

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For a long time, I’ve been grieving motherhood through the lens of absence.

Parenting without Jaxon.

Wishing I could go back.

Wanting to pour everything into the child I can no longer hold.

Living in two places at once—

one foot in heaven,

one foot still here on earth trying to function.

Do you know how hard that is?

To smile for one child…

while your heart is aching for another?

To show up physically…

while mentally you’re somewhere else entirely?

That is the battle.

That is the tension.

That is the place I have lived in.

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But today… something shifted.

Not perfectly.

Not easily.

But intentionally.

Because I didn’t just wake up like this.

I fought to wake up like this.

I fought out of the pit this week.

I fought through the heaviness.

I fought through the thoughts.

I fought through the weight that tried to convince me I couldn’t be present today.

And hear me clearly:

Today, I am not wearing a mask.

Today… I will smile genuinely.

Not because everything is okay—

but because God is so good.

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I am honored… to still be a mother.

Do you understand what that means?

I have lost two sons.

Two.

And I still wake up with breath in my body

and a child calling me “Mommy.”

My motherhood did not die with my loss.

It changed.

It stretched.

It broke me open…

and rebuilt me differently.

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Nolin is different.

And because he is different…

he is making me different.

He is pulling me back into the present.

He is teaching me how to live again.

He is reminding me that joy is not betrayal.

That loving him fully…

does not mean I love Jaxon any less.

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And I hear it in my spirit so clearly:

Jaxon would be proud.

Darren would be proud.

Not because this is easy.

But because I got up anyway.

Because I chose to live anyway.

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So today, I rise.

Not because the pain is gone.

But because purpose is still calling.

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And everything strong in me…

everything rooted in me…

everything unshakable in me…

It didn’t come from comfort.

It came from walking through fire

and realizing I didn’t burn up.

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Because God says I am:

Special — Psalm 139:13

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”

Created with Purpose — Ephesians 2:10

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Lovely — Daniel 12:3

“Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.”

Precious — 1 Corinthians 6:20

“You were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.”

Strong — Psalm 18:35

“You make your saving help my shield, and your right hand sustains me; your help has made me great.”

Chosen — John 15:16

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last.”

Forgiven — Psalm 103:12

“As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.”

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Not because life has been easy…

but because He kept me anyway.

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So if grief has been whispering to you that you can’t keep going…

Let me be clear:

You can.

I am not telling you from a place of theory.

I am telling you from a place of survival.

From a place of standing in two worlds

and still choosing to live in the one God kept me in.

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And today…

I choose gratitude.

Not for everything that happened—

but for everything that remains.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Nolin Taylor.

And happy 5th birthday to God Said No.

And Happy Birthday Big Mama Icyphine Nelson....

Let that sit for a second…

Five years ago—something was born in me

that refused to let pain have the final say.

Five years ago, in the middle of everything that tried to break me,

God gave me language…

God gave me identity…

God gave me a no that protected my yes.

And on that same day—

He gave me you.

April 26th is not random.

It is not coincidence.

It is divine alignment.

The day a message was born…

and the day a son was born.

The day I learned God will say no to what’s not meant to take me out—

and yes to what is meant to keep me here.

And today?

I stand in the middle of both.

Five years of becoming.

Two years of mothering you in the earth.

And I understand something deeper now:

God didn’t just keep me alive…

He gave me reason to keep living.

It looks different this year.

But today?

I am smiling for real.

Because I fought to be here.

Because I chose to be here.

Because I refused to let grief take this day too.

Nolin—Mommy is here.

Fully.

Presently.

Intentionally.

And I will keep choosing you…

while still loving your brothers deeply.

And to the one walking this too…

This is what it looks like.

Not perfect.

Not polished.

But real.

Grief and gratitude—

standing in the same space…

and neither one winning.

God said no…

and five years later, I’m still here to say yes.

ST~ Hope Dealer