Thirty Nine Weeks of Change, Challenge, and Grace

It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write, and I owe you an apology for the silence. Life over the past several months has been a whirlwind…emotional, challenging, beautiful, exhausting, and deeply transformative.

If you didn’t know… surprise! I’m pregnant again and surprise! She will be born next week. I’ve been taking this season to myself and my daughter, soaking in the quiet, the changes, and the emotional storm that comes with growing a new life.

In one week, I’ll meet my daughter.

That sentence alone feels impossible to fully grasp. After months of counting days, tracking symptoms, worrying, dreaming, and imagining who she might be… somehow we are suddenly here. And the truth is, I am scared. I am excited. I am grateful. I am terrified. I am every emotion stacked on top of each other, layered in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

I knew becoming a mom would change me. Everyone says it. But what I didn’t expect was the grief...yes, grief...that comes with it.

This might sound silly to some of you, but I'm mourning being “just” a dog mom. If you truly know me, you know my babies have always been my fur babies. Knowing there will be a shift breaks my heart in a way I wasn't expecting. I’m mourning my old routines, the version of myself who was free in ways I didn’t appreciate at the time. I’m mourning the body I used to know so well. I’m mourning who I used to be before pregnancy reshaped me emotionally, mentally, and physically.

And somehow, I’m also stepping into the biggest love my heart has ever been asked to hold.

For years, my world revolved around healing, growing, rebuilding, learning, and taking care of me. I had to. It’s what my journey demanded.

Now, everything is shifting toward this tiny miracle I haven’t even met but would place above everything without hesitation. There’s a weight to that, a sacred weight. A new sense of responsibility that feels both empowering and overwhelming. I want to provide the most stable, loving, steady environment for Willa. I want her to feel safe. Protected. Cherished. Even if that means I am uncomfortable.

And somehow, in the middle of all of this, I’m also trying to figure out who I am now.

Pregnancy didn’t come with a roadmap. No one handed me a guide titled “How to Lose Yourself and Find Yourself at the Same Time.”

Most days I don’t recognize myself, emotionally or physically. Most days I wonder who I’m becoming and whether I’ll ever feel like “me” again. That loss is real. And it’s okay to say out loud that it’s hard.

I’m also terrified of surgery. Terrified of the label “high risk” even though I know it’s meant to protect me. Terrified of the what-ifs and the unknowns. A C-section wasn’t part of my original vision, but it’s where this journey has led and I’m choosing to trust the people who are caring for me and the body that has carried me this far.

Still…the fear is there. And that’s okay, too.

One of the hardest parts to accept is that I won’t be able to be 100% physically capable in those first days and weeks. I’m used to pushing through, handling things on my own, being strong. But this time, my job will be to heal slowly, intentionally, while also becoming Willa's mother.

And that’s terrifying in its own way. I want to be everything for Willa from the moment she arrives, but I’m reminding myself that love isn’t measured in how fast I move or how well I recover. It’s measured in presence. In intention. In connection. And even at my most vulnerable, she will feel how deeply she is loved.

So here I am: one week before meeting my daughter. Equal parts brave and afraid. Mourning and celebrating. Losing pieces of who I was while preparing to gain something far greater.

Maybe motherhood isn’t about having it all figured out before the baby arrives. Maybe it’s about showing up...heart open, hands trembling, ready to learn, ready to love, ready to become.

And I’m ready… even if I’m still terrified.