Nurture, Suddenly
I’ve been spending some time thinking about what my word for 2026 might be. I don’t often ascribe words to my year the way some might do, but for this year it somehow feels fitting.
I think the word I’ve landed on is: Nurture
To nurture and be nurtured.
To nurture and be nurtured by God.
To nurture and be nurtured by my work, creativity and writing.
To nurture and be nurtured by my husband, father and son.
To nurture and be nurtured by my friends.
To nurture and be nurtured through my changing body, labour, birth, delivery and postpartum journey.
To nurture and be nurtured through becoming a mother.
I pray in this new year that I am able to both give this care and encouragement, and receive it openly.
The realization only hit me recently that my 2025 word was likely ‘suddenly.’
This past year was a year of suddens.
Whether I was open to it or not, whether I appreciated the ramifications of it or not, whether I could process its movements or not, God brought me into a year that could only be described as ‘sudden’.
Suddenly I was stopping my facilitation work to care for mom through her cancer journey. Suddenly I could no longer look out at the magnificent view of my condo and was instead sleeping in my teenage bed in our family home. Suddenly I was making very little money. Suddenly I was overwhelmed by doctors appointments and chemo treatments. Suddenly I was administering needles into my moms stomach and prepping her port prior to chemo. Suddenly I was trying on a dress and planning a wedding. Suddenly I am a wife. Suddenly I was dancing with my mom our one last dance. Suddenly mommy could no longer swallow. Suddenly we were thrust into the hospital. Suddenly I was sleeping on a hospital floor for weeks. Suddenly she dies and I am motherless. Suddenly I am pregnant. Suddenly there’s a funeral. Suddenly I’m helping daddy transition within the home. Suddenly I’m cleaning out corners and discovering a hoarding nature neatly tucked behind cabinets and closed closet doors, between sheets, within drawer sets. Suddenly memories both good and bad are thrust at me through old documents and history found within that hoarding. Suddenly there are homes with my name on them that need to be renovated and maintained. Suddenly I am moving and saying goodbye to the magnificent view of the condo and now sleeping in a new bed. Suddenly I am growing a child that I can finally spend time connecting with in my belly. Suddenly life has grown quiet and I am grieving.
Suddenly.
Six months of suddens.
It’s no wonder I am moving into 2026 wanting to only nurture and be nurtured. To take things slow, to make things routine, consistent and predictable. To live quietly. To grow this baby inside my womb, peacefully deliver him into this world, and learn what it means to mother. To pray that I witness something within him that is reminiscent of my mom so that I know that I am being given an opportunity to love and nurture mommy in a different way, a way that she so needed while she was earthside.
To nurture creativity in my life, start something new, really hone in on this writing, see where it takes me, be delicate with it, allow my vulnerabilities, grief, love and depth to take centre page, share this with the world, have it resonate, let it circulate, and trust that through God’s will it will land where it needs to.
To nurture my husband, learn to be softer with him, speak love and life into him, trust and lean into him more, love on him gently, soften my tone, let him BE - at times when the smallest of things frustrate me - things that are not necessary for me to open my mouth up at, things that can be swallowed because I grew up in a home where it was natural to berate and complain and want someone to be who YOU want them to be rather than allow them to be themselves. Touch him more, flirt, caress, savour, create beautiful moments, play more board games, be more of a gamine - remind him why he chose me as his wife.
To nurture my friends, speak joy into them, laugh more, schedule and spend more time with them, be more open about challenges with them in hopes that they trust me enough to share their challenges. Create a space where we can continue to share reciprocal energy around care, support, community, adventure, joy and love.
To nurture my dad, learn more about him, prompt him to share his life stories with me, give him space to just exist, let him travel, maybe accompany him on a journey if possible, understand his thoughts, spirit, and hold him in his grief and love. Only he and I understand what we lost in mommy, his wife. Only he and I understand the bitter sweetness of losing someone like mommy, her dynamo, her codependency, her care and support, her assertiveness, her rudeness, her crazy, her despair, her stoicism, her hiding, her big laughter, her cooking, her endearing love. Give daddy space to learn what life is like without her, and in some ways without me, nurture him through that with care.
To nurture my son...this almost feels foreign to me, what does this mean? I’ve never had a child before or even had much children around me for longer than a few hours. Is it reflective of how I want to nurture my father and husband? To also learn him, witness his quirks, pour into him, love on him with softness and tenderness, be assertive when needed, let him know I am always here for him, that mama’s going nowhere. Teach him a balance of dependence and independence. Nurture his creativity, his joy, let him also just be.
To nurture my relationship with God. To be in deeper intimacy with him, to have more conversations, to sit in stillness and listen. To learn how to have and demonstrate that faith that is as small as a mustard seed. To actually follow through on the things that he asks me to do - like writing. To surrender. To surrender in my prayers more. To fill our home with the spirit of God. To ensure that I pour into those around me with His word. To teach our son to also tap in, listen, pray, and walk with God. To always bring my husband back to God when he gets too much in his own head and way. To always bring myself back to God when I get too much in my own head and way.
Six months later, I am re-reading these words while I revisit my writing, my son quietly sleeps upstairs.
When I wrote this I was pregnant with him. I was unusually stoic while pregnant, quiet, calm, level headed, grieving. I was looking at motherhood from the outside wondering what it might mean to nurture and grow another human being. I had no understanding of what postpartum would be like, no idea of how my chosen word of ‘nurture’ would truly show up in my life.
What surprises me the most is that nurture has had less to do with caring for my family - my husband, our son, my father - than I had expected, and has had everything to do with nurturing myself. To move more slowly. To take it easy. To prioritize my physical and mental health and wellbeing. To ask for help, to ask for care, to accept said care.
When I chose this word, I knew I wanted to both nurture and be nurtured. What I didn’t know was that the greater lesson for me would be learning how to ask for what I needed, accept care when it was offered, and be willing to receive it.
After having a year of suddens, God has been inviting me into something steadier, softer. Not the certainty I imagined would come with me being in control, taking care of others, but the uncertainty that comes with slower mornings, asking for help, being held instead of always holding, trusting that I too can be cared for, that I too can be nurtured.
Author’s Note
I started writing this at the top of the year and it’s just been sitting here in my notes ever since - unfinished.
I was pregnant, in my third trimester, somewhere between grief and anticipation. At the time I thought I was choosing a word that would set the tone for my year, a word I would need to manifest and lean into. What I didn’t realize was how much this word would reveal itself. How much it would show up in what I need most during this season of postpartum.
I’m still in it - the nurturing, the receiving, the learning how to ask for what I need.
If a word has been quietly describing the season you’re in, whether you named it or not, I’d love to know what it is.
Love you,
‘til next time,
tash ♡
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Thank you for being here. Truly.
Thank you for being vulnerable with us all ❤️
Natasha, You are so joyful and a beautiful person from inside out🥹🥲
Sharing your story so powerful🙏🏾
God Bless you and your beautiful family🥰😘💖