Motherhood began for me in both the most beautiful and heartbreaking way. Dreams of big moments, birthdays, milestones, family photos and first words, were shattered when we lost Ava at 35 weeks. Without warning, the way I saw nearly everything changed. Grief has a way of sharpening your perspective. Suddenly, the ordinary became sacred. My soul yearned for sleepless nights filled with tiny hands reaching for me, instead of the sleepless nights I was enduring.
Then came nearly 2 years of not knowing. Not knowing if I would ever parent a child. Not knowing what to say when asked if we had children. Not knowing if I would ever be free of the emotional weight of our loss. Pregnancy no longer felt beautiful. Even carrying our rainbow baby came with so much fear and anxiety. It was, again, one of the hardest seasons of my life, full of trust issues that my own body would fail us again, and fear that something could go wrong at any moment.
But the true beauty in our story comes from what our loss gave us. The moment our second daughter, Aubrielle, entered this world, every difficult day felt worth it. I was given a perspective that others may miss. I learned that motherhood truly lives inside the smallest moments. Nursing your baby at 2am when the rest of the world is quiet. Hearing “mom” over and over… and over… again. The exhaustion that I am able to embrace as privilege.
Each of my girls are daily reminders that joy can still exist after unimaginable heartbreak. Now, Mother’s Day carries a different meaning for me. It is joy and ache existing together. It is gratitude wrapped in remembrance. It is understanding that motherhood is not defined only by the children we hold in our arms, but also by the ones we carry in our hearts. I have learned that healing does not mean the grief disappears. It means we learn how to carry love and sorrow together. Some days, one feels heavier than the other, but both can exist at the same time. It is possible to feel immense gratitude for the life you have while still grieving the life you imagined.
Loss taught me not to rush through motherhood wishing for the next stage. It taught me to hold onto the ordinary moments a little longer. To appreciate the chaos, the sleepless nights, the noise, the mess, and even the hard days because I know just how precious those moments truly are.
This Mother’s Day, I celebrate all versions of motherhood. The joyful parts, the painful parts, the healing parts, and the mothers carrying both love and loss at the same time. Because even the shortest lives can leave the deepest impact, and the love that makes someone a mother never disappears. In every ordinary moment I now hold so tightly, a part of Ava is still teaching me how precious motherhood truly is.
With love,
Mikaela Mora