Grace In Between

I reflected on what it truly means to forgive—not just once, but over and over again. Forgiveness isn’t about pretending the hurt never happened or allowing others to keep hurting me. It’s about choosing not to let bitterness take root in my heart.

I realize that forgiving is often harder than holding on to anger. It requires humility, grace, and trust that healing will come with time. Just as I hope to receive mercy for my own mistakes, I am called to extend that same mercy to others.

There are still wounds that hurt when I think about them. Some days forgiveness feels easy; other days it feels impossible. But today I choose to take one step toward letting go. I don’t have to forget, but I can choose to release the burden of resentment.

My prayer is that God softens my heart, gives me wisdom to set healthy boundaries, and helps me forgive again and again—not because others always deserve it, but because my heart deserves peace 🙏🏻

Sometimes I wonder if, in another life, I wouldn't have chosen motherhood.

Not because I don't love my child. I do, in ways I never knew were possible.

But love and longing can exist in the same heart.

I miss the version of me who only had herself to think about. The freedom to be spontaneous. The quiet. The uninterrupted sleep. The person I was before everyone needed something from me.

Motherhood has given me joy I can't explain and grief I didn't expect. It has changed me, stretched me, and asked more of me than I thought I had to give.

Some days, I mourn the life I didn't choose. Most days, I choose this one anyway.

Maybe that's the part people don't talk about enough: you can deeply love your child and still wonder who you might have been if life had gone differently.

It doesn't make me a bad mother. It makes me human.

Almost a year after delivery.

Two new jobs. Still working with carepool. A home that's never perfectly tidy. A heart that's fuller than I ever imagined.

Life has stretched me in ways I never expected. There were tears, doubts, exhaustion, and days when surviving was the only goal. But there was also laughter, tiny hands reaching for me, unexpected opportunities, and people who stayed.

The bumps along the road didn't disappear. We just learned how to keep driving through them.

Life is good. Not because everything is easy, but because we've witnessed how resilient we can be.

A year ago, I was learning how to become a mother. Today, I'm still learning—how to balance, how to let go, how to trust that it's okay not to have it all figured out.

And somehow, despite it all, we're moving forward.

Yesterday, I officially lost the job that had been my way out after spending 11 long years in my previous company. It was unexpected, and even though I had tried to prepare myself emotionally, nothing really softens the sting of an ending—especially one that comes so soon after a new beginning.

Leaving my old company was a huge step. That job had become a comfort zone, even if it wasn’t always the healthiest place to grow. When I joined this new role, it felt like the fresh start I’d been needing. It gave me a glimpse of what was possible outside of everything I’d known for over a decade. I learned a lot—about systems, about people, and most importantly, about myself. Even in an environment that at times felt negative or limiting, I did my best. I showed up. I adapted. I kept growing.

There’s sadness, of course. A part of me feels disappointed, even a bit tired. But underneath it all, I feel thankful. Thankful for the chance to try. Thankful for the skills I gained. And hopeful—for the days ahead, for whatever’s next, and for the strength I now know I have to keep going.

Today, I sit with a heart full of wonder, gratitude, and a little bit of disbelief—I’m pregnant at 39.

This chapter feels different. I’m not the same person I was in my twenties. I carry more wisdom, more patience, and yes, a bit more caution. But with all of that, I also carry a deeper sense of purpose. This life growing inside me came at a time I never fully expected, but perhaps right when I was most ready for it.

There’s beauty in becoming a mother later in life. I’ve lived. I’ve grown. I’ve loved and lost and learned. Now, I get to bring all of that into this new role. I’m not chasing perfection. I’m chasing presence. I want to be here—for the quiet kicks, the sleepy mornings, the laughter, the mess, all of it.

Of course, there are fears—about health, about the unknown, about being enough. But those fears don’t drown out the calm voice inside me saying: You’re ready. You’re capable. You’ve got this.

Today, I made a conscious choice: I refuse to see myself as a victim of anyone else’s behavior. Life isn’t always fair, people don’t always act how I wish they would, and situations don’t always go according to plan. But even in those moments, I still have power—the power to own my part, to rise above, and to keep my peace.

I’ve learned that blaming others or seeing myself as helpless only holds me back. It gives away my control. I don’t want to live in that space. I want to be accountable for how I carry myself, not for how others choose to carry their own weight.

At the same time, I hold myself to a standard—I don’t want to be the reason someone else stumbles. I don’t want my words or my energy to trigger someone into making a mistake. We all have our own paths, and we all trip up sometimes, but I want to be a person who contributes clarity, not confusion. Support, not stress.

Today, I reminded myself of something simple but powerful: I can only control myself—my thoughts, my choices, my reactions. Not other people, not outcomes, and definitely not everything that life throws at me.

There are moments when I catch myself getting frustrated over things that are completely outside my influence—someone’s tone in a conversation, a delayed response, or a decision made without my input. I notice the tension it brings, the drain it causes. But then I pause. I breathe. And I bring myself back to what I can control: how I show up, how I speak, how I choose to respond.

It’s not always easy. Sometimes it feels unfair, especially when you care deeply about something or someone. But I’ve learned that peace doesn’t come from controlling everything around me—it comes from managing what’s within me. My energy is better spent on growth, not resistance.

Start putting boundaries to the negativity and abuse.

I broke down again last night just because he went out with his friends and I was left all alone by myself.

Heart beat fast, shivering, lots of negative thoughts and rage - overflowing with low self-esteem. It's sad, it's lonely and it felt like it eats me alive.

That's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt.

I have been keeping and controlling everything inside my heart and mind that although I felt loved and that although it felt so special right now, the pain has been looking at me and yearning to be felt.