More Than I Imagined: A Mother’s Day Reflection

Most all of us (We miss you Cole!)

There was a time when I thought I knew what motherhood would look like.

I had a picture in my mind—one shaped by stories, expectations, and the quiet assumptions we carry about how life is supposed to unfold. It was simpler. More predictable. Maybe even a little neater around the edges.

But motherhood became more than I imagined.

And I’m so grateful it did.

This Mother’s Day, I keep coming back to one thought: God chose me to be their mom.

Not by accident. Not by chance. But with intention—through every twist, every unexpected turn, every moment that stretched me far beyond who I thought I was.

Being a mom to my boys has been the greatest honor and joy of my life. They are the ones who made me a mother. They are the ones who shaped me—through laughter, through challenges, through the kind of love that asks you to grow in ways you didn’t even know were possible.

They taught me how to advocate. How to listen differently. How to fight for what matters. How to love so deeply.

And then, life expanded in a way I never could have planned.

I didn’t just become a mom—I became their mom.

And then, I became a mom to two incredible girls I didn’t give birth to, but feel so deeply grateful to love.

There’s something sacred about that kind of expansion.

It’s not always easy. Blended families rarely are. There are layers, dynamics, emotions, and moments that require more patience, more grace, more understanding than I ever imagined.

But there is also so much beauty in it.

To be trusted with more hearts. To be invited into more stories. To learn that love doesn’t divide—it multiplies.

Motherhood didn’t turn out the way I thought it would.

It’s been fuller. Messier. Deeper. More complex.

And somehow… a billion times better.

Because it isn’t just about raising children. It’s about becoming.

Becoming more open. More flexible. More grounded. More aware of what truly matters.

It’s about learning that love isn’t always found in perfect moments—it’s found in showing up, again and again, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

This year, I’m not holding onto an idea of what Mother’s Day should look like.

Some of my kids won’t be with me.

Some moments won’t be picture-perfect.

There will be pieces that feel full, and pieces that feel a little tender.

And all of it belongs.

Because motherhood isn’t defined by a single day. It’s built in all the moments no one else sees.

The happy ones. The hard ones. The deeply meaningful ones.

And I’m also thinking about the mothers who came before and alongside me.

My own mom, who shaped so much of who I am—whose love and strength are woven into the way I show up for my children.

Todd’s mom, who raised the father of my boys—and in so many ways, helped shape the lives we share through them. Her influence lives on in them.

And Bergen’s mom, who raised the woman I love—whose heart, strength, and capacity for love now intertwine with my own life and our shared family.

Motherhood doesn’t exist in isolation. It’s generational. It’s layered. It’s connected in ways we don’t always see, but deeply feel.

So today, I’m holding all of it with gratitude.

Gratitude that I was chosen for this life.

Gratitude for my boys, who made me a mother.

Gratitude for two amazing girls who expanded my heart in ways I didn’t expect.

Gratitude for the women who came before me and helped shape this story in ways both seen and unseen.

If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this:

I wouldn’t trade this version of motherhood for anything.

Not even the one I once imagined.

Happy Mother's Day!