CervivingMom

It’s often said that when you need a message, the universe delivers it twice. For me, the theme of Inclusion for this month’s blog hop hit my inbox on the very same day I read about Promod’s Amour Rose collection. It was a moment of profound, emotional synergy. We fortunately now see clothing for the plus-size community and tall size community, but I never imagined I’d see something so beautifully adaptive for cancer warriors like me—clothing designed specifically with our fragile reality in mind. Honestly, trying to contort your body for a blood draw because of a restrictive sleeve, or attempting to get into a stiff, scratchy turtleneck when your scalp is tender, is a full-contact sport you immediately lose. That’s where Promod’s collection resonated so deeply. It felt like finding a beautiful, intentional oasis. This collection wasn't adaptation—it was affirmation. It meets needs with three non-negotiable design principles : Photo from PROMOD website * Material : Pr...

This theme made me think of the letters I used to write to Santa, as so many children do. Every December, my sister and my mother made it a little tradition — a note slipped into the stocking, a wish scribbled in earnest. I wasn’t the kind of child who asked for many gifts. My letters usually said I wanted books or puzzles, and I always promised to be good, not just for the year but forever. It felt like a game, but also something sacred — like Santa might actually be reading. ✏️  The Letter I Actually Wrote (as a child) Dear Santa, I want a puzzle or book. I promise to be a good child always. Please don’t forget to visit me. Lots of love, A child who loves books and puzzles ✏️  The Letter I Wish I Had Written (if I could rewrite as a child) Dear Santa, I don’t really need any gifts. What I truly want is to always feel safe, to be loved, and to know I belong. I want my family to laugh more, and I want the people I love to always be near me. Can you bri...

I wrote this poem in a moment of deep emotion—a letter to my son, on the day he was born. That day brought me the greatest joy of my life and also a life-changing cancer diagnosis. At the time, I needed to put my feelings somewhere, so I poured them into these words. Then, as life moved forward, I tucked the poem away—forgotten, like things we set aside when survival takes up all the space. It was only because of this bloghop that I remembered it. And now, reading it again, I know: if I tried to write this today, it might not come out the same. Not because the love has faded, but because that moment was its own—pure, fragile, and full of truth. Though written for my son, this is a letter we all might want to leave behind. A message for the ones we love most. A quiet reminder that even if we’re no longer in sight, we never truly leave. We are always with them. Always with you … My dearest boy, the day you came, The world around me changed its frame. Your cry, your breath,...

27th December 2024 This post is a part of 'Celebrate and Reflect Blog Hop' hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed under #EveryConversationMatters Once upon a time—not in a faraway kingdom, but in a small, cozy home—a little girl sat with her mother and sister every December, stitching stockings. Christmas in their home wasn’t about fancy gifts or feasts. It was about traditions. Writing letters to Santa wasn’t just about making a wish; it was about thanking him for the year that had passed. The tree wasn’t grand—it was small and beautiful. The highlight of her Christmas was always the books under the tree. For that girl books were her best friend and nothing beat the joy of flipping through fresh pages. She hoped to always keep this magic alive. But, as life often does, things changed. Marriage brought her into a home where Christmas wasn’t celebrated the same way. There were no stockings, no tree, no letters to Santa, no books. At first, she brushed it of...