08/16/2026
When I created this candle, I never had me in mind.
I created it from a memory of my mother. From a feeling. From the things I remember, the things I inherited, and the things I didn’t always have words for.
But somewhere along the way, Womb became about me, too.
This summer has been immensely overwhelming. And in the middle of trying to be everything for everyone, I’ve realized something:
I’m a mother. A single mother. And I deserve to be recognized in my own world, too.
I’m learning that finding myself doesn’t mean finding a version of me without my children.
It means finding me alongside them.
Because sometimes you become so good at being a mother, a provider, a protector, a worker, a problem-solver… that you start skipping between the cracks of all the roles you carry.
And I’m tired of skipping over myself.
So today, I acknowledge my mothering.
I acknowledge my effort.
I acknowledge the ways I’ve worked 10x harder because I want my children to experience something different than the hardships I’ve endured.
Is it working?
I don’t know.
Only time will tell.
But I know I’m trying.
And maybe that deserves to be acknowledged, too.
The womb is such a beautiful, complicated thing.
It holds pain.
It holds life.
It holds memory.
It holds possibility.
And sometimes I become so good at hiding the pain that I forget to acknowledge the beauty that exists alongside it.
So this candle means something different to me now.
I made Womb while remembering my mother.
But now, when I hold it, I see myself, too.
The mother I remember.
The mother I became.
And the woman I am still becoming. 🤍
