Hey Love,

Lately I’ve felt stuck in a strange season. Not necessarily bad. Just uncertain.

I’m living in this grey area of being grown from who I used to be but not quite arrived at the woman I want to be. It’s an uncomfortable space to live in.

There’s the essence of future me lingering in my mind while the insecurities and fears are plaguing me in the present.

Within this space, there are moments of grieving, uncertainty, and embracing new beginnings simultaneously. It’s a weird emotional rollercoaster, might I add.

At twenty-six, I expected to feel settled. Instead, I feel suspended between who I was and what I want to become.

I thought adulthood would come with answers. I thought by now I would have clearer direction, stronger community, and greater certainty about the life I was building. Instead, I’ve learned that growing up often looks less like arriving and more like unraveling,

Living in this grey area has forced me to release the expectations that once controlled me.

Expectations about success.

Expectations about family.

Expectations about the timeline I had written for my life.

Becoming a mother changed me more than age ever could.

Motherhood didn’t just give me children to raise—it introduced me to parts of myself that had been hidden beneath the surface. It exposed wounds I had ignored, strengths I didn’t know I possessed, and dreams I still quietly carry.

In many ways, motherhood made me softer.

In other ways, it made me stronger.

It taught me that love can exist alongside grief.

Because if I’m being honest, one of the hardest parts of this season has been grieving the village I always hoped my children would have.

There’s a particular kind of sadness that comes from realizing life doesn’t always look the way you imagined it would. Sometimes we grieve relationships that never became what we needed them to be. Sometimes we mourn versions of life we thought we would have by now.

And yet, amid that grief, there is gratitude.

When I look at my children, I see evidence of God’s grace.

When I look at my home, imperfect as it may be, I see an opportunity to build what I once longed for.

Perhaps this season feels so uncertain because I am changing.

Perhaps growth was never meant to feel comfortable.

Perhaps the woman between then and next isn’t lost at all.

Perhaps she’s becoming.

So for now, I am learning to honor the woman I was without idolizing her.

I am learning to nurture the woman I am without criticizing her.

And I am learning to trust the woman I am becoming—even before I fully meet her.

Because maybe becoming isn’t about having all the answers.

Maybe it’s simply about having the courage to keep walking when you don’t.

With love,

Mia