I’m not even sure how to find the words  or if words are enough — but I need to try. Because I’m drowning. Emotionally, financially, spiritually. And no matter how much I work, how many hours I push through, how many nights I go without sleep — I just can’t catch up.

Every single penny I make is already gone before I even touch it. Rent. Bills. Food. Gas. Catching up on what’s already overdue. Trying to stay afloat while carrying grief that has torn me open in ways I never imagined.

God called my baby girl Natalie home. She was 5 month’s pregnant with my grandson Jayden. And even as I type those words, I still can’t believe this is real.

She would be 19 years, 1 month, and 30 days old today. Her sweet baby boy, Jayden, would be 1 year, 8 months, and 1 day.

She should be here. I should be hearing her laugh. Watching her hold her son. Seeing her step into the fierce, beautiful life she was meant to live.

Instead, I’m left with silence. With memories. With the ache of dreams that will never come to life.

Losing her has shattered something in me that I can’t describe. It’s a grief so heavy, it hurts to breathe. A kind of pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone. A hole that nothing — and no one — can ever fill.

But the one thing that brings me closer to her — the one thing that keeps me going when I feel like falling apart — is acts of service. Doing something good. Helping others. Showing up. That’s how I feel her near me. That’s how I keep her light alive.

So even through all this pain, I’m grateful for every opportunity I get to serve, to love, to be there for someone else — because that’s where she is. That’s what she did. That’s where I feel her the most.

I hate asking for help. It makes me feel weak, exposed, embarrassed. But I’ve learned that being strong doesn’t have to always mean carrying it all alone.

Right now, we’re drowning under a $1,600 rent. And that’s not including power, phone, gas, car maintenance, insurance, and everything else that keeps life moving. I’ve kept us afloat as long as I could. I’ve juggled bills, gone without, and pushed myself past the edge just to keep that roof over our heads. But I’ve finally hit a wall. I can’t keep sacrificing my son’s needs — his clothes, his shoes, his peace of mind — just to pay a landlord.

We’ve been offered a chance. A beautiful one. A dear friend is giving us space on her land to place a trailer so we can finally live affordably, sustainably, and together. Not in survival mode, but in a place where we can start to heal. A place where I can be present again. A home where I can finally exhale.

But getting there costs money. Money I simply don’t have. And that’s why I’m here. I’m not asking for luxury. I’m asking for the chance to rebuild. To give my son the life he deserves. To start over not with nothing, but with love, intention, and the strength that’s carried me this far.

If you feel led to help in any way — a donation, a share, a prayer — it would mean more to me than you know. I’ve started this Give-A-Hand to help keep us from falling , failing, losing more. I work my  job tirelessly and also drive for delivery apps - it’s not enough anymore, it hasn’t been for a long while now. 

Even $1 helps, and even just sharing it can make a difference.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for remembering Natalie and Jayden with me. Thank you  💔