For the mother of a Son-Letter 4

A letter about the becoming, the letting go, and the love that never stops growing.

Happy Thursday night, my wonderful family and friends.

Thank you for meeting me here this evening. It’s an honor to share this space with you, and from the depths of my heart, I appreciate your love and support more than you’ll ever know.

Tonight, I’m doing something a little different. I want to share a letter I wrote to mothers all around the world — a letter especially close to my heart because it speaks to mothers of sons, the role I was blessed with.

This Mother’s Day reflection has been sitting tenderly on my heart. If you’re a mother of a son — whether he’s still small enough to curl up into your arms or grown enough to have a life of his own — I hope these words meet you gently. This one came from a deep place, and I’m grateful to offer it here in our Love Life space.

I am the mother of two sons that were born from my body and I’m also the step‑in‑mom to two sons who are from another woman’s womb, yet that doesn’t change my love for them. Having bonus boys is still pretty special.

Tonight, I’m just going to let my heart flow onto the pages here and at times I’m sure my words will be tender, other times maybe they’ll be a little hard to understand, but from one mother to another, I have no doubt that you’ll be able to relate on levels you may never have imagined or thought of.

Before I became a legacy writer, I would write to my sons when I traveled or when a certain milestone was approaching. I always wanted them to know my hopes and dreams for them — mostly they were, and still remain: be happy. Treat others well and with respect. And always know you have a place in my heart no matter where life takes us.

Do you remember when you found out you were going to be a mom for the first time? I do. I remember that journey like it was yesterday.

I had a couple losses before Tommy came along. The doctors weren’t even sure he would make it to term, let alone survive. I had an extremely difficult pregnancy and let me tell you, being only 23 years old, I was afraid. Afraid of losing another baby. Afraid he wouldn’t be healthy. Afraid I wouldn’t know how to take care of him. But the day he was born, my world changed in the best way possible.

They say God gives a woman a son because He knows your heart deserves a man who will love you unconditionally forever.

When God gave me sons, He gave me the greatest gifts of all. For me, a son is exactly what I needed.

Tommy. Kevin,

Being your mom is the greatest thing I’ve ever done in life. You both heard my heartbeat within my body, and you both have felt it from the outside too.

Tommy, when I became pregnant with you, it was a difficult nine months. It was hard being told by your dad that if I lost you, he couldn’t go through it again. Maybe this was God’s way of giving us a bond that can never be broken, no matter what. From the moment your dad said if I lost you, we were done trying for another baby. Don’t be mad at him for that. Losing a child is difficult on a daddy too. He was speaking from fear.

From the moment I knew you were growing within my body, I talked with you every day. I knew you would be a boy and how grateful I am you were. We prayed together. I would beg God to please not let me lose you. I would have long conversations with you begging you to be strong with me, because I knew I couldn’t do the fight alone.

You were with me every step of the way and look at us now. Our bond has always been, and I’m grateful to be your mom.

Holding you for the first time, I was hooked. You took a piece of my heart and you’ve always had it. Laying in that hospital bed, holding you, loving you — your tiny fingers curled around mine — I never realized that the mother of a son learns to love in layers. We learn to hold on and let go at the same time.

A mom becomes both a soft place to land and the quiet strength that pushes her son toward the world. No one tells you that raising a son is its own kind of becoming — that you will grow up alongside him, that you will lose versions of him and versions of yourself, and somehow love will keep expanding to hold it all.

When you love a son so much — a daughter too — it’s hard to imagine having another, but God gives us a heart full of so much love that when baby two, three, four or… comes along, you can’t imagine life without them.

For me, baby #2 was Kevin — my second heartbeat, my reminder that love doesn’t divide, it multiplies. By the time he came along, I wasn’t the same girl who held Tommy in trembling hands. I had lived a little more, hurt a little more, learned a little more. But nothing prepares you for how different each son will feel in your arms, how each one will carve out his own place in your heart, how each one will teach you something you didn’t know you needed to learn. Raising sons is not a single story — it’s a collection of moments, lessons, heartbreaks, laughter, and quiet miracles that shape you into a woman you never imagined you could become.

Kevin,

You truly did complete my heart. Having you both in my life was a double blessing and God knew I needed you both. You’ve grown into two incredible men, yet you’ll always be my baby boys.

To every mother of a son reading this, I hope you know that whatever season you’re in — the newborn nights, the teenage storms, the quiet distance of adulthood, or the tender in‑between — you are doing better than you think. Sons don’t always say it, but they carry us with them in ways we may never fully see. They remember the softness, the strength, the sacrifices, the prayers whispered in the dark. They remember the mother who held them before the world ever did. And even when they grow taller than us, even when life pulls them into their own becoming, a son never stops needing the woman who first taught him what love feels like.

Never forget — you were the first woman your son ever loved, and that will always be something extraordinary.

As Mother’s Day approaches, some of us won’t be celebrating with our grown children. Our sons have families of their own now, homes of their own, lives they are building with the women they love. And though it stings a little to not have them beside us, we can take comfort in knowing we did exactly what we were meant to do. We raised them to leave our nests and create their own. We raised them to honor the mother of their children. We raised them to stand on their own two feet and live the life we prayed they would one day have.

It may ache, but beneath that ache is a deep, steady pride.

We did good, mamas.

We really did.

May you feel the quiet strength of every mother who has ever loved a son in layers.

P.S. If tonight stirred something in you — a memory, an ache, a moment of pride — you’re not alone. We’re walking this journey together and those emotions… that’s just love remembering itself.

🦋 Love Life++ Hugs,

Dawna‑Rae

Before You Go…

If this letter touched something in you, I’d love to hear your story in the comments. This space has always been a soft corner of the internet for honest hearts, and I’m grateful you’re here with me.