Hello, Dear Readers,

Welcome to the final blog post in the Motherhood series—it’s good to have you back. Over these past several weeks, I pray you were able to connect, find solace, and see both the pain and the blessing in the ups and downs of preparing to bring forth a child. I hope that by sharing my story, it has inspired other mothers to continue the conversation about the journey to motherhood, because it is very much needed. I also hope that men were able to see just how imperative their presence is every step of the way—during pregnancy and even after—regardless of the relationship status.

In this series, I shared my struggle with fibroids and how that struggle turned into an answered prayer, as well as how that prayer continued to unfold. I elaborated on how my fears of being single while becoming a mother transformed into a declaration of hope. I reflected on unforgettable moments and on how God is truly faithful in replacing what we feel may be missing in our lives. I also shared a moment when I had to stop engaging in small, unnecessary arguments and chose to protect my peace, allowing my third trimester to be a positive one—right before entering a new normal and finally laying eyes on my beautiful sons.

Now, we’re at the end of this series, so let me finish by sharing a little bit more of my journey.

The hospital stay was overwhelming, but I can now look back and feel the love that surrounded my two little boys and me. Visits from their aunts, my aunt and uncle, cousins, the boys’ older sisters, and their dad being there every day—along with phone calls and text messages—gave me great comfort. Knowing that our family support was off to a strong start reassured me that the boys and I would be truly blessed.

As for St. Mary’s Hospital in Montreal, I can’t say my first night went well, as I had a nurse whose behavior was awful. However, after my aunt spoke with the head nurse the following morning, and their father and my uncle followed up that afternoon to ensure that nurse would not work with me for the remainder of my stay, everything went smoothly.

That first night, Ez was still in the ICU. I found myself going back and forth every hour because the thought of him being alone was something I couldn’t bear. Seeing him so tiny, with an IV attached to his little body, had me unsettled. Yet Ez, strong and determined even from the very beginning, reached the point where he was able to leave the ICU and finally be reunited with us. When they brought him into the room, my heart felt whole again. He was back where he belonged—with us.

That was the moment when reality truly set in. This was my new normal: nights with my two little kings. One would finally fall asleep, I would drift off for maybe an hour, and then the other would wake me, searching for comfort, for breast milk, or for formula. The exhaustion was unlike anything I had ever known. Words don’t even begin to describe how tired I was. To this day, I still don’t understand how I found the strength to keep going. It had to be God—only God—carrying me through those nights.

Once the excitement faded, coming home revealed the true weight of what I was facing, especially during the long overnights. There were no nurses to lean on anymore, no call buttons, no extra hands. It was just me and my boys. I learned very quickly that this journey would be ours to walk together.

That first night at home, anxiety wrapped itself tightly around me. I was fresh out of surgery, my body still healing, yet I was now fully responsible for two precious lives who needed me every two hours, day and night. The night was overwhelming. At one point, I had to step outside, take a deep breath of fresh air, and let the tears fall. When morning finally came, I waited anxiously for their father to arrive, believing I would finally be able to rest. But my body refused sleep during the day—it only knew how to rest at night. My sister would come in the evenings and stay as long as she could before heading home. She became a lifeline, stepping in whenever she was needed, reminding me that even in the hardest moments, I still wasn’t completely alone.

Going into my first year as a mother brought some truly amazing moments. Hearing their heartbeat every month, seeing how happy their father was when he found out we were having boys, and even the date we went on before delivery day are memories I’ll always hold close. From the moment, the boys first recognized me and touched my face, to watching them learn and grow through each milestone and become the little boys they are today — those were the moments when joy was loud, not just a faint whisper.

Unfortunately, there were also times I wish I never had to experience. Those moments made it hard to fully enjoy my children and completely immerse myself in motherhood. But that’s life, and I’ve learned to appreciate both the good and the bad. Even in those difficult moments, God was building my character and reminding me of my worth. Looking back, I realize this is where my faith was strengthened. When I had to do things alone at times, because someone chose to opt out, God was showing me that He would be my ultimate provider. It was a gentle reminder to always put Him first.

I was lost when I first started this journey, completely unaware of the road ahead. With the guidance and support of a few close family members and friends, I learned how to adapt and find my way. Some days are now memories I can look back on and smile about, while others were exhausting and difficult — days I don’t care to relive, but ones that helped shape me and helped me grow through this journey.

Motherhood is one of the most vulnerable seasons a woman will ever experience. It’s a time when we are physically, emotionally, and mentally changing so quickly that it can be hard to keep up. Things shift fast, and sometimes we’re just trying to catch our breath. Because of that, we may seem a little all over the place — and yes, at times, hard to deal with. I know this can be challenging for our partners. But men, if there’s anything you take from this, let it be this: have patience with her. Cover her during one of the most trying times of her life. Support her as much as you can, and work together with love, respect, and honor, regardless of the status of your relationship. We need our men — without a doubt — so rise to the occasion.

In my first two years of motherhood, I have learned that growth is not always gentle. The changes I’ve experienced—physically, emotionally, and mentally—have reshaped me in ways I never anticipated. My relationship with my children, while rooted in deep love, has also brought moments of struggle that tested my patience, my identity, and my limits. Through those challenges, I’ve learned how to sit with discomfort, to keep showing up, and to love even when I felt exhausted or unsure.

These years have made me wiser, not because I have everything figured out, but because I understand myself more deeply. Motherhood has taught me that my worth is not tied to perfection or self-sacrifice alone, but to honoring who I am as a person while I care for my children. In learning to give them grace, I’ve learned to give it to myself. This journey has grounded me, strengthened my self-awareness, and helped me recognize my value—not just as a mother, but as a woman who knows her worth.

With love, Keemah G.