I Don’t Have the Answers — I’m Just Showing Up Anyway

Some Days the Wave Comes Out of Nowhere

Some mornings hit harder than others.

You wake up already tired. Already heavy. Already bracing yourself — even though nothing specific has happened yet. Those are the mornings where you think, I was doing okay… so why does this feel so hard today?

That was me this morning.

Grief is strange like that. Some days you finally feel like your feet are underneath you. You’re functioning. You’re managing. You almost believe you’ve found a rhythm again. And then out of nowhere, a wave comes crashing in — bigger than you expected, stronger than you were ready for — and it completely takes you out.

Today wasn’t just about my grief.

It was about my kids.

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Parenting Through Grief Is a Weight I Never Expected

Parenting is hard on its own. Parenting teenagers is a whole different level. But parenting children who are carrying their own grief while you’re barely holding yourself together? That’s something no one really prepares you for.

There are decisions that feel heavier than they used to. Conversations that feel more fragile. Emotions that show up louder, messier, and more complicated. And I’ll be honest — the fatigue of it all is overwhelming. Not just physical tired, but soul tired. The kind where you want to sit down and just breathe. Or cry. Or wish, even for a moment, that someone else could help shoulder the weight.

I never imagined myself solo parenting at this stage of life. I never pictured navigating these ages, these seasons, these hard conversations without my partner beside me. My kids are beautiful. They are gifts. And this season is also incredibly hard.

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“Date With Q” and the Love I Refuse to Erase

This morning, I woke up and saw a reminder pop up on my phone.

“Date with Q.”

I set that reminder a long time ago — shortly after losing Q in April almost two years ago, which still blows my mind when I say it out loud. Back then, so many people told me to take it off my phone. They said it was just a painful reminder of something that no longer exists. Something I couldn’t have anymore.

But I never deleted it.

Every Tuesday, it still pops up. Date with Q.

And even though I can’t physically sit across from him, even though I can’t hear his voice or talk through the things weighing on my heart, my Q day is still my Q day. I refuse to erase the love just because the loss hurts.

Seeing that reminder this morning brought everything rushing in at once. I just wanted him here. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to process the hard parenting moments with someone who loved our kids as fiercely as I do. Someone who wanted the best for them. Someone who could help me shoulder the worry instead of carrying it alone.

That’s the part people don’t always talk about — how much easier the hard things feel when you’re not doing them by yourself.

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Doing the Hard Things Even When I Don’t Want To

I got up anyway.

I got ready even though I didn’t want to. I poured my coffee and put it in a to-go cup because sitting still felt impossible. I had a Pilates class on my schedule, and even though every part of me wanted to cancel, I decided I was going to go.

Not because I felt strong.
Not because I had it together.
But because showing up — even half-hearted, exhausted, and unsure — is sometimes the bravest thing we can do.

Some days, strength doesn’t look like confidence or clarity. Some days, strength looks like bringing your coffee with you and putting one foot in front of the other.

If you’re a parent feeling alone today, I want you to know you’re not imagining how hard this is. When grief layers itself on top of everyday responsibilities, it can feel suffocating. Your own emotions mixed with theirs. Your worries multiplied. The constant pressure of trying to be everything for everyone while feeling like you’re barely enough for yourself.

I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did.

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Just Show Up and Love Your Babies

What I do know is this: love covers a multitude.

When I don’t know what to do, I choose to love them harder. Extra time. Extra patience. Extra grace — even when my nerves are thin and my heart feels raw. If your kids are grieving too, if they’re struggling, if they’re not doing what they’re “supposed” to be doing right now, you’re not failing. They’re human. And so are you.

Life doesn’t pause just because we’re hurting. The responsibilities keep coming. The calendar stays full. And when you have multiple children pulling you in different directions, it can feel like you’re constantly coming up short somewhere.

But your babies matter more than the to-do list.

This morning, I was reminded that all things are possible with Christ. Not in a tidy, fix-everything way — but in the quiet strength He gives us to keep going when we don’t think we can. He doesn’t promise easy. He promises presence.

Today is a Q day for me. I’ll have my coffee. I’ll go to Pilates. I’ll do the hard things even when I don’t want to — not because I’m fearless, but because each small step builds the strength I need for the next one.

So if today feels heavy, if you’re exhausted from being “the strong one,” if you’re parenting through grief and wondering if you’re doing any of it right — you don’t have to have it all together.

Just show up.
Just keep loving your babies.
Just keep going.

You are not alone. 🤍