May 8, 2026 - Motherhood
There’s a transition in motherhood that nobody really prepares you for and it seems to kind of be smacking me in the face in recent days. I have way too much time to just sit and think. It’s like one day, your life revolves around packing lunches, helping with school stuff, driving to practices, and making sure everyone is where they need to be and complete chaos at times. And then slowly… almost without realizing it, your role begins to change. You stop leading or being a part of every step of their journey and instead find yourself standing on the sidelines, cheering them on as they begin building lives of their own. It’s such a weird and bittersweet feeling!
With Maci choosing to spend the final days of her senior year in Uganda, there were a few things she knew she would miss out on. Before leaving, she asked that Louis and I attend those events in her place, and we gladly have… and will continue to do so. A couple of days ago, the Senior Academic Awards night was held at Central. Sitting there as parents without her beside us felt strange in a way. An event I would normally have probably cried through, this time I did not. I sat and smiled and was just happy to be there. I can’t fully explain. Rewarding, absolutely… but strange too!
As parents, we spend years imagining these milestone moments, and naturally we picture our kids sitting right there with us. Yet while sitting in that auditorium and reflecting the last few days, I am reminded of something really important… sometimes our children grow in even bigger ways outside of the spaces we expected or envisioned. Recently I had someone at school tell me they really could understand Maci’s journey and truly believed she was gaining far more from where she is right now in Uganda than she would ever experience in a classroom setting during these last couple weeks of school. I couldn’t agree more. Still, hearing someone else recognize that was incredibly rewarding as a parent. It reminded me that success and growth don’t always happen within the traditional timeline or setting. Sometimes they happen halfway across the world while serving others.
This week also brought a big moment for Alivia. Yesterday, she had an important clinical at DMU that she needed to pass. She knew she wanted to pass it on the first attempt. She did not want to start her upcoming week with a do-over… she wanted to do it right out of the gate. Confident in her studies but always hard on herself, she carried the pressure she always does. That girl has always pushed herself to do well… always has, always will. Truthfully, I think that’s exactly what will make her an incredible physical therapist someday.
At exactly 6:41 this morning, my phone rang with a FaceTime call that made my heart skip for a split second before I realized it was a good call. Alivia had not only passed her clinical… she absolutely crushed it. I have no doubt all of her experience working at Cedar Valley Medical helped prepare her, but honestly, the part that stayed with me the most was that she called to share with her momma right away. I hope she always does that.
I hope no matter how independent, accomplished, or grown my girls become, they still reach for the phone when something exciting happens. I hope they always know there will be someone on the other end celebrating with them louder than anyone else. Because that’s what motherhood becomes in these seasons… less managing, less fixing, less holding on… and more cheering them on!
With Mother’s Day approaching this weekend, I found myself reflecting during my morning thoughts about my own journey into motherhood.
Louis and I spent years trying to become parents. Our path wasn’t traditional, and much of it depended on medical technology simply to give us a “chance”. There were procedures, surgeries, endless appointments in Dubuque and Iowa City, and more emotional exhaustion than I can even put into words. Sometimes I look back and wonder how we survived those years. And then I remember… we really felt like we had no other options… and just did what we thought we had to do. We had discussed adoption. We considered fostering. But before pursuing those roads, we knew we needed to put every card on the table first.
I still remember sitting with Dr. Dokras, one of the kindest and most compassionate doctors we have ever encountered. I remember the sincerity in her eyes as she explained our IVF transfer information to us. I remember the nurse who walked into the room with our positive pregnancy results and the complete and utter disbelief Louis and I felt in that moment.
After six years of negative tests, heartbreak, and praying month after month for a baby, we had began to keep our hearts very guarded… and it simply didn’t feel real.
I remember pulling out of the parking garage and calling my mom, crying before I could even get words out. Then I called my dad and did the exact same thing. They were tears that had been waiting six long years to finally fall. At only five weeks pregnant, we shared the news with our closest family and friends… the people who truly knew what we had been carrying. Maybe it was risky to share that early, but we couldn’t help it. We were living on pure joy and disbelief and could not quit smiling. We were so happy… a place that we had not let ourselves be in quite some time.
Infertility changes people.
I would never wish that journey on anyone, but for Louis and I, those six years gave us a perspective on parenthood that shaped us deeply. Not better or worse than anyone else’s story… just different. And maybe that’s part of why this Mother’s Day feels different too.
This year, I’ll spend Mother’s Day without both of my girls and without my mom. In years past, that probably would have crushed me. Honestly, I can’t think of another Mother’s Day where I haven’t spent it with at least one of the three. But this year feels different in the best way.
My mom was just here, and the quality time we shared comforted me more than she probably realizes. I’ve seen Alivia two of the last three weekends and will see her again next week. And Maci is exactly where she is supposed to be.
That’s the bittersweet beauty of motherhood, isn’t it?
We spend years raising our children to not need us anymore. That’s the goal. But wanting us… that’s a different story.
I hope no matter where life takes them, they always know this… I will forever be their biggest cheerleader… in every season, in every accomplishment, in every hard moment. Whether they are across the world or just across town, there will never be a day I stop cheering them on.
Motherhood changes… But it never ends!
