I first lost my mother in early adolescence, when a traumatic brain injury changed her irreversibly. Before, she created a magical, nurturing childhood. After, I took on an emotional burden far beyond my years. I felt responsible for her happiness, often silencing my own needs and desires. I struggled to assert boundaries or pursue personal goals, afraid doing so might worsen her pain. My individuation was arrested; I wasn’t just a daughter—I became a quiet witness to her suffering.
As an adult, I had a son, then adopted my first daughter—a profound joy. Not long after, I experienced the devastating loss of a biological daughter. In time, we adopted our second daughter, a further gift of healing. Before I turned forty, I lost both my mother-in-law and my mother to breast cancer. Through this layering of loss and love, God placed people beside me. I’m learning to carry sorrow and joy together.
Before I turned forty, I lost her again—this time to breast cancer. That loss brought a deeper grief, but also moments of grace. God has placed people in my life to walk with me. I’m learning to live with the weight of both losses while reclaiming parts of myself shaped by love, pain, and faith.