Finding Light: A Story I Never Expected To Share

I've been staring at this blank screen for a while now, wondering how to start.

In 2020, while 17 weeks pregnant with triplets, my world changed forever when I lost my husband Matt. I was 29 years old and that same year I also lost my father-in-law and grandad, leaving me to navigate a huge amount of grief while preparing to bring three precious lives into the world.

During a time when the world was grappling with unprecedented isolation and uncertainty, I found myself thrust into intense grief, facing unexpected media attention, and navigating a path I never imagined.

Those weeks in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) were some of the hardest of my life. Between the constant beeping of monitors, the fear that comes with having three premature babies, and the crushing weight of grief, every day felt like survival mode. Yet somehow, between midnight feeds and morning rounds, watching our tiny fighters grow stronger gave me something to hold onto, even if it was just for that day.

You know those moments that really change you? Not the fanfare moments but the quiet ones that sneak up on you in the ordinary moments:

• When you drag yourself out of bed at 3am for another feed
• In catching yourself laughing at your toddler's antics, then feeling guilty for the joy
• During those quiet moments when grief and gratitude somehow coexist

I remember one particular morning, juggling three bottles while attempting to eat some toast before it became stone cold. One of the triplets smiled, really smiled, for the first time. And just like that, my heart did this complicated dance of breaking and expanding all at once. I wanted so badly to text Matt about it. To share this milestone. Instead, I sat there, holding both the joy and the heartache. That's when I learnt that maybe this is what healing feels like.

The thing about unexpected chapters in our lives? They rarely come with a manual. There's no "What to Expect When You're Suddenly a Widowed Mum of Triplets" handbook. (Trust me, I looked!)

Some days still feel impossible. Being a solo parent to triplets while navigating a corporate career and building something meaningful isn't exactly the life I planned. But I'm learning that maybe the unplanned paths hold the most growth.

For anyone reading this who's in the middle of their own unexpected chapter:

• Your messy, complicated feelings are valid
• There's no "right way" to navigate this
• Sometimes just breathing through another day is enough

These days, when people ask how I kept going, I'm honest: Sometimes I didn't know if I could. But somehow, we do. One breath, one moment, one cold piece of toast at a time.

I'm sharing this today not because I have it all figured out (spoiler: I definitely don't), but because maybe my ordinary story of putting one foot in front of the other might resonate with your own journey of figuring it out as you go.

And maybe that's enough.