The past year and a half has been a profound journey—wild and transformative. After enduring the heartbreak of a traumatic miscarriage last Christmas Eve and a night in the hospital, we realized that Imua was all we needed, and we thanked Jesus for the blessing of having at least one child. Just two weeks later, we discovered I was pregnant again. While we felt joy, anxiety lingered about losing a precious life earlier that month. I faced relentless nausea and scary heart palpitations, but I stood strong. I was throwing up and peeing my pants 3-6 times daily for nine months, battling smells, dips in energy, and the feeling that I would never feel good again. I pushed through, surfing, creating Imua Moms, working out (while throwing up), playing with my son as if nothing was amiss, all while nurturing my business and my boyfriend's. Throughout this pregnancy, we encountered challenges and setbacks that could have been avoided with stronger boundaries, yet we emerged stronger, learning that these experiences were the greatest gifts we could receive.
My partner and I stand strong, with no family help or support, doing our best to forge our own path. We both were doing deep shadow work, to break free from generational curses, fighting against the traumas that try to push through us to our children. We know our strength—stronger than we ever realized. No matter the cost, we will liberate our kids from this cycle, even if it means severing toxic relationships and reevaluating harmful family dynamics.
After giving birth, I was wrapped in pure bliss, yet life quickly threw us a curveball. The joy of family came with the staggering challenge of no longer fitting into our home of three years. What was once our family sanctuary had morphed into a chaotic DJ party zone, utterly unfit for raising children. Paying 5k a month should guarantee a beautiful, nurturing space, not an unhealthy, unbalanced environment. I had envisioned life becoming more manageable after childbirth, at least from the outside world, as I sought to find balance within our new family dynamic. Instead transformed into an unending whirlwind, full of challenges and growth.
No one in their right mind wants to shop for a home and move while one month postpartum, nor deal with unnecessary drama. Welcoming a new life without support, while navigating the chaos, made me feel like I might crumble. But through unwavering faith and fierce resilience, it all came together. I understood these challenges were meant to guide us, not to break us, even when the unfolding felt profoundly unfair.
Fast forward a few months, and I now see the wisdom in our journey. We have found better, we live better, and we’re saving up to claim our own space. We surf more, we live more, we do more, we feel more, we pray more, we laugh more, we heal more, we explore—we are more.
I am bravely uncovering my weaknesses by confronting my triggers and working through them. In this sacred journey of motherhood, I’ve feel the heavy weight of being ignored, with cell phones, in general, especially in my baby’s cries. When they cried hard, a profound sadness and unsettling anxiety surged within me, as if the world were closing in. Yet, through this struggle, I’ve come to realize these emotions unveil the trauma from my childhood. My father, a remarkable man, was often absent, consumed by the demands of three jobs or too exhausted to engage when he was home. My mother’s departure left a daily ache I tried to ignore, shaking me to my core—something I suppressed to rise above, refusing to be a victim. I was a strong little girl, yet my tears revealed a deep sorrow—not from broken bones, but from a hollow ache in my soul, lost without my family. In the early days of motherhood, when my children cried deeply, that childhood hurt echoed as if it were yesterday. But after I faced that realization, I responded to their cries with joy, knowing those cries only needed my love to satisfy them. I embraced the thrill of being the nurturing force they need, rushing to them the moment they cry. By answering their cries, I ensure they grow with emotional intelligence, never feeling alone or ignored. They will not carry the weight of my absence. They will learn to embrace their own cries, and one day, their children's cries will resonate free from the shadows of pain, fully loved and supported.
It’s been a minute since I last wrote in because, as I mentioned, I was deeply absorbing and evaluating the pressing needs of Imua Moms. For a moment, it felt like the work I was pouring my heart into was pointless. Recently, something I put my all into was overlooked, and that triggered me. But here's the truth: more work needs to be done, and that trigger was a wake-up call to unleash my voice—no matter the emotion. Whether I’m happy, mad, angry, or triggered, our voices have to be heard. It's the silence, the ignoring, and the cries that should inspire us to move forward.
We must move forward with power and love. Imua Moms is essential, you are essential, your children are essential, and CHANGE is essential. The work we do is vital. The more we strive, the more we may be ignored, challenged, and silenced. But that only means we are closer to dismantling a system that no longer serves us in this new world—the world our children will inherit.
Excuse my launguage...but Fuck instagram, fuck likes, fuck views, fuck what you should be from a society that is turned it's back on women. the societal pressures surrounding likes and views. It is disheartening to witness a society that has turned its back on women. I have often felt compelled to be agreeable; however, being agreeable frequently results in being taken advantage of. I extend my appreciation to all mothers for supporting our latest vlog, "Against All Odds." Although it did not receive significant likes, views, or shares, it managed to reach those it was meant to reach and did meaningful work. If you have not yet viewed it, here is a link if you care to.
Love,
Danielle