For the early days
When getting through the day is the whole jobSome days the whole job is water, a shower, and getting to the end of the day. That counts. That is the job.
You don't need a reason or a date on the calendar. Saying their name out loud, to yourself or to one safe person, is allowed any day.
When someone asks how you are, you don't owe the real answer. 'Today's a hard one' is a complete sentence.
For mothering the living
Grieving one child while raising anotherIt doesn't wait for a convenient time. If it hits in the car, at pickup, in the cereal aisle — that's normal, not a failure.
You can make a sandwich for the child who's here with tears on your face for the one who isn't. Both are mothering.
They need you honest in words they can hold. 'I miss your sister today. I'm still here with you' is enough.
Tea before everyone wakes. A short walk. Two lines in a journal. One small thing that belongs to you alone, most days.
For the hard nights
When the house goes quietIf sleep isn't coming, get up. Water, a chair, a lamp. Fighting it makes the night longer.
Keep one thing written down for 2 a.m. — a prompt, a list of what to do next, anything. Midnight is a bad time to improvise.
When the house goes still, everything you carried all day lands at once. It's what happens, not what's wrong with you.
More like this, once a month
Free · one email a monthI write one honest note a month — what was hard, what helped, and one small thing you can try. Leave whenever you want. You can always reply; I read them myself.
Your email stays with me. Never shared, never sold.
The weekly circle
Free · Zoom · cameras optionalOne hour a week with other mothers who understand. You can keep your camera off, say nothing, and still belong there.