Becoming a Mother in 2009 After Loss
March – Motherhood and Warriorhood
❃
March – Motherhood and Warriorhood ❃
March 3rd Issue
Dear 2009 Me,
I see you. I see the way your hands tremble as they trace the curve of your belly, feeling both excitement and fear battle for space in your heart. You want to embrace this moment, to let joy wash over you, but the weight of grief is still there—clinging to you like a shadow. The loss of Raven is too fresh, her absence too loud. How do you celebrate life when you’re still mourning death?
I see how you wonder if you can do this. If your body, already tired from the battles it has fought, will carry you through. If your heart, cracked by loss, can stretch wide enough to love without the fear of breaking again.
But let me tell you something: you are stronger than you know.
This journey into motherhood will not be easy. It will push you to the edge, testing limits you never knew existed. There will be moments in that cold NICU, sitting beside your son’s tiny body, wires and machines keeping him stable, where you’ll feel powerless. Your body will ache, your spirit will shake, and exhaustion will settle into your bones. You will wonder if you did enough, if you prayed hard enough, if you are enough.
You will cry—tears of pain, of guilt, of fear.
But you will also laugh, so much more than you think.
Because that little boy, the one you’re holding back tears for, will show you that love is louder than fear. That life, no matter how fragile, is worth fighting for. And in his tiny hands, wrapped around your trembling finger, you will find strength you didn’t know you had.
And Raven? She is not gone. You will carry her in every lullaby, in every whispered prayer, in the fierce way you advocate for your son. You will mother him with the same love she gave you—unapologetic, boundless, and strong.
You are not broken, Whitney. You are becoming.
With love and belief in you,
Me
Reflection
Looking back now, I wish I could hold that version of myself and tell her it was okay to feel everything at once—the fear, the grief, the love, and the hope. I wish I could remind her that healing isn’t about moving on but about carrying what matters forward.
This is a moment in the past I shared with my children, my husband in the back. This picture was taken on my birthday in 2021.
Motherhood changed me, but it didn’t erase the pain of loss. Instead, it showed me that love doesn’t replace grief—it grows around it, making room for both. My son’s birth didn’t mean I stopped missing Raven, but it did remind me that life keeps giving us reasons to keep going.
To every mother who has loved through loss, who has found strength in the middle of fear, I see you. And I want you to know—you are not alone.
