Between Bruises and Blooms
-
A letter celebrating Gabriella’s observant little spirit and the quiet wisdom she has carried from the very beginning.
-
A letter to Isabella, whose first cry stitched something back together in a mother who did not realize she was still broken.
-
A letter to Theo, the rainbow boy whose joy arrived without replacing grief and reminded a wounded heart how to hold sunlight again.
-
A mother writes to the daughter she held for only hours, imagining the girl she might have become and loving her through every unanswered question.
-
A letter to the boy who first made her a mother, carrying years of ordinary memories, fierce love, and all the things no photograph can hold.
-
A hope for the day relief no longer comes with judgment, conditions, or the fear of losing everything she has fought for.
-
A quiet hope that her name lives in someone else’s silences as often as theirs lives in hers.
-
No test can measure the nights, panic, meals, mornings, and quiet work behind a mother proving she can keep choosing her children.
-
A daughter held for only moments remains woven through every year, every sibling, and every piece of love that followed.
-
Other people will keep inventing versions of her; the page remains where she refuses to shrink herself to fit any of them.
Between Bruises & Blooms 