Mother’s Day in the In-Between

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Mother’s Day in the In-Between

A reflection on love, presence, and parenting through uncertainty

Lauren Beals

May 19, 2025

Transcript

Day That Landed Differently

This Mother’s Day landed a little differently than any before. I wasn’t expecting to feel the way I did. It seemed to come out of nowhere—but does anything really come out of nowhere?

I hadn’t given the day too much thought. I didn’t want any special activity or event. I was happy with what we had decided on: brunch with Kev’s parents, a quick stop to see my mom, and just taking the day as it came. And that’s exactly what we did. It was all lovely.

But I found myself feeling somewhat melancholy. I started going to the corners of my mind as I thought about being a mom, about the boys, about Kevin.

Living in the Liminal Space

I try to live intentionally, to stay present, to navigate the liminal space the four of us are living in—the in-between. We’re living in a space where uncertainty and hope sit side by side, all while trying to maintain a sense of normalcy.

But what is “normal,” anyway?

A Quiet Night, A Sudden Wave

The Saturday night before Mother’s Day, Kevin and I were watching a movie called Nonna together. We were just lying there—he was rubbing my feet—and it all felt…normal. But even these little things, like watching a movie and getting a foot rub, mean so much to me…and to him.

And suddenly, I felt myself choking back tears. Kev didn’t see it in the moment—we talked about it later—but I was overcome with emotion. The unknown, the love we share, the family and life we’ve built…everything.

I won’t get into the specifics of where my mind went… the corners holding memories, love, hope… and yes, fear. In true mom fashion, I won’t be sharing those explicit thoughts here. A mother’s protection is fierce and unshakeable.

Some things are just mine…and for just me…including the feelings that surface in me as I navigate being a mom at this time in our lives.

This blog is a space where I share parts of me, parts of our family, pieces of my curiosities, and all the feels that come with living a full, layered life.

The Depth of a Mother’s Love

The love of a mother is hard to put into words. You may be someone who has felt this love and received it. Or perhaps you are a mother and know this feeling yourself. Or maybe you’ve witnessed it—in the way a mother hugs her child, holds their gaze and sees the most beautiful soul imaginable…in the cheers from the sidelines, the breath caught in the chest, the tear quietly falling behind the camera lens.

This love—this mother’s love—is expansive and deep. It holds no bounds.

And if none of this lands with you because the relationship with your mom is or was complicated, you are not alone. If anything, I hope these words stir something in you—a moment of tenderness, curiosity, or reflection.

The Truth, the Whole Truth

I’m doing my best to stay present. This blog is a daily reminder of that, for me and maybe for you too.

Kevin and I have conversations about the boys—who they are as people, who they were as babies and toddlers, and who they’re becoming. We talk about their changes, their mistakes, their growth—physically, emotionally, spiritually. These conversations are both soulful and practical.

We’re not constantly living in deep or heavy feelings, but we go there often, and it feels good. And when I say “heavy,” I don’t mean scary. I mean real. Real, raw, honest conversations layered with emotion. Because emotions, in all their complexity, are how we tell our stories. They influence how we show up in the world. They shape our relationships, our lives. Sharing my feelings here means sharing my story. And that feels right.

Kevin and I have always been honest—age appropriately so—with the boys about this journey. About cancer. Parenting through serious illness comes with constant questions: What do we say? How much do we share? What’s too much?

We’ve found our own way. A way that works for us.

What My Therapist Said

Back in September and October, when this journey began, I sat across from my therapist and sobbed. I shared my fears about doing it wrong—messing the boys up, stressing them out, or worse… faking it and acting like everything was fine.

At that time, things were not fine. Kevin wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay. But my God, all I wanted was for the boys to be okay.

My therapist listened deeply and then offered something so simple, yet powerful:

Honesty. Truth.

She reminded me: Kids can sniff out bullshit. If we don’t tell them the truth, they’ll try to make sense of it on their own—and that imagined version can be scarier than any real conversation. They might turn to others or the internet for answers. All of which would only fracture our foundation, our trust.

She helped me see that this was an opportunity to strengthen our bond with the boys—by showing them that we are the safe place, we are the experts, and we will have the answers they need.

That’s what we’ve done. That’s what we’ll continue to do.

This Blog as Therapy

There are times I deeply want to share the raw, unfiltered version of what I’m feeling. The part that lives beneath the surface—messy, honest, and vulnerable. But now is not that time. The boys are in middle and high school, navigating a world that’s already full of complexity.

They know about this blog, though they haven’t read it yet. And when they do, I want them to find my truth—but not feel responsible for it. I want them to read their mother’s words and feel seen, not burdened.

Maybe one day, when they’re older and life looks different, this space will hold more of that uncensored version. Or maybe it never will. And that’s okay too.

So for now, this blog feels therapeutic. I’ve always loved journaling for reflection, and in many ways, this blog is just that—a behind-the-curtain view of my heart and mind, shared with whoever wants or needs it.

The Souls That Chose Us

I’ve told the boys many times—and I’m certain that I’ll say it many more times to come—I believe their sweet little souls chose us. That their souls chose Kevin and me to be their parents. I know that sounds a bit woo-woo, but I don’t care. I believe it in my gut. I know I was meant to be their mom.

I tell them about what life was like before they came along. Kev does too. We reflect on how wild it is that we had whole lives before they arrived. And how magical it is to imagine their future children’s souls—if they choose to be parents—are out there somewhere…waiting to join us, to be part of our story.

I love the quote: You still haven’t met all of the people who are going to love you.”

And to add onto this idea…You still haven’t met all of the people you will love.

The Miracle of Motherhood

It really is a miracle to be alive. And to be their mom has been the wildest and best ride of all.

Labor and giving birth made me feel like I was in an episode of National Geographic. It’s such an intense experience, a moment where you feel primal, connected to nature, utterly changed. You’re still you…but you’re forever altered.

Motherhood opened my heart in ways I couldn’t have imagined—more love, more worry, more joy, more breaking and expanding and growing.

What This Mother’s Day Brought Me

And so, this Mother’s Day washed over me with emotions from every corner of my being. Gratitude. Fear. Joy. Hope. Grief. Love. So many strong emotions from across the entire spectrum of feeling.

You can use your own imagination and lived experience to understand what I mean.

Mother’s Day can be complicated for so many, in so many ways. And when a family is living with a serious illness, these kinds of days can carry an unexpected weight.

At least, that’s what it felt like for me this time.