Thursday, November 5, 2026
Dear Moms,
How do you mourn the family you dreamed of without losing sight of the beauty in the family you have today?
Sincerely,
Loving Mom
Dear Loving Mom,
This is a question I, too, deeply struggle with.
As a single mom, I sometimes grieve the life I imagined I would have. Growing up, I dreamed of getting married, buying a house with a white picket fence and a dog in the backyard, having a few kids, and living happily ever after. It sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? But spoiler alert, Mom: for most of us, that’s a movie, a bedtime story, or a love song—not reality.
You can grieve the family you imagined while still loving the family you have. Those feelings do not cancel each other out.
Research on grief recognizes that coping involves moving between acknowledging loss and adjusting to life as it is now (Stroebe & Schut, 1999, 2010). We don’t have to choose between feeling sad about what didn’t happen and finding joy in what did.
And what if the family you have today is also a dream come true? You might just have to look a little closer to see it.
For me, I’ve always longed to be a mom. That dream came true. Even better, I got to be a girl mom! My family may not look the way I once imagined, but I have a little girl who calls me Mom. That’s something I never want to take for granted.
I’ve also realized that I still get to create the magic I dreamed of growing up. I get to establish our traditions, create our own rules, and shape the way my daughter sees the world. I can build a loving, stable home while still making room for my grief.
Sometimes, I look at my married mom friends juggling marriages, multiple children, careers, and think, Wow, that’s a lot to balance! Meanwhile, I have the opportunity to slow down and be intentional about the one-on-one time my daughter and I share. I get to be present with her in a really special way. And you know what? This is something I always wanted, too. Another dream come true. I’m simply learning to recognize the beauty in the life I have instead of spending all my time mourning the life I thought I would have. I don’t have to wait for my life to look the way I imagined it to start making beautiful memories.
Of course, I don’t always get it right. Some days, the sadness still finds me. But I’m learning that I can honor those feelings without letting them overshadow the joy in front of me.
I also believe this is a season of my life, not the entirety of my story. I still have hope for love, partnership, and the other dreams I carry in my heart. My circumstances today don’t have to determine what I believe is possible tomorrow. I believe the best is yet to come for us. Release the guilt and bring your grief to God. Have you ever questioned Him?
God, why me? How could You let this happen? Is this really what my life is supposed to look like?
Me too.
I’ve prayed the same prayers over and over, wondering when or how things might change. But Scripture reminds us that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) and invites us to cast our anxieties on Him because He cares for us (1 Peter 5:7).
Faith doesn’t mean pretending we’re okay or having every answer. It means bringing God our disappointment, longing, fear, and even anger, trusting that we don’t have to carry those feelings alone.
Research on grief also explores how people make meaning of loss and integrate difficult experiences into their life stories and understanding of the future (Smid, 2020). For me, my faith helps me navigate that process. God may not change every circumstance overnight, but I believe He meets me in the middle of them and continues to shape my heart and guide me as a mom.
So, Mom, give yourself permission to grieve. You don’t have to feel guilty for wanting something different. You don’t have to force gratitude every time sadness creeps in. And you don’t need your entire future figured out to find joy in the present. You can mourn what didn’t happen and still be grateful for what did. You can hold space for the family you once imagined while intentionally nurturing the family you have today. And you can trust that your story is still being written.
For now, look for the little moments: the bedtime giggles, the traditions you’re creating, the tiny hand reaching for yours, and the funny sayings or dances you share. Your life may not look like the picture you once held, but it is still full of moments worth cherishing.
Look for the dreams that have come true. They may be all around you, waiting to be noticed.
Maybe the goal isn’t to stop dreaming about the family we once imagined. Maybe it’s to stop letting that dream keep us from seeing the beauty right in front of us.
References
Boss, P. (2022). The myth of closure: Ambiguous loss in a time of pandemic and change. W. W. Norton & Company.
Smid, G. E. (2020). A framework of meaning attribution following loss. European Journal of Psychotraumatology, 11(1), 1776563. https://doi.org/10.1080/20008198.2020.1776563
Stroebe, M., & Schut, H. (1999). The dual process model of coping with bereavement: Rationale and description. Death Studies, 23(3), 197–224. https://doi.org/10.1080/074811899201046
Stroebe, M., & Schut, H. (2010). The dual process model of coping with bereavement: A decade on. OMEGA—Journal of Death and Dying, 61(4), 273–289. https://doi.org/10.2190/OM.61.4.b
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