There are moments in life when you realize your story was never just your own.
This episode of Mom & Co. was one of those moments for me.
For most of my life, I saw my mom and me as worlds apart — oceans, cultures, and generations between us. She was deeply Cambodian; I was American-born, chasing the life I saw on TV. I used to wish for a mom who understood my world, one who could drive, bake cupcakes for school, and speak fluent English. What I didn’t see then was the quiet strength of the woman who raised me — a survivor, a nurturer, and a mother who planted lessons in the soil long before I knew I’d need them.
As I became a mother myself, I began to see her in my reflection. The losses I’ve carried — my ectopic pregnancy, my daughter Penelope, the fear that shadowed each birth — mirrored her own. My mom lost three sons during the Cambodian genocide, children she never got to bury. When I listened to her share that story, I finally understood what it means to carry grief in silence and still grow life out of it.
Through my pregnancies, losses, and births, I was unknowingly tracing her steps — learning how to live with both pain and purpose. The woman I once thought couldn’t understand me is now the one who understands me best.
Our shared grief became a bridge.
Our healing became a garden.
And our love became the language that finally needed no translation.
Now, as my mom turns 86 — on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month — I honor the mothers whose love transcends loss, whose courage roots new generations, and whose stories bloom again through their children.
We can’t always bury the ones we’ve lost, but we can grow something beautiful in their memory. For us, that garden is called home.
Journal Prompt: A Mirror of Love
Take a moment to reflect on the people who shaped you.
Think about the parts of their story that live within you — even the ones you once resisted.
Where in your life do you see your mother (or a parent figure) reflected in you — in your strengths, your struggles, or your healing?
How does honoring their story help you understand your own?
🌿 Write freely. There’s no right or wrong answer — only the reflection waiting to be seen.
