One Day I’ll Tell Her

One day I’ll tell her how hard it was.
How completely and utterly heartbreaking it was.
How I couldn’t figure out which way was up, what we were going to do, or how we would figure it out.
 
One day I’ll tell her how I sat there in the chair when the doctor gave us the diagnosis and my heart completely stopped. How my body went numb and I could see his mouth moving but I simply couldn’t comprehend the words that were coming out of his mouth.
One day I’ll tell her how it rocked her Daddy.  The strongest man I know suddenly reduced to a pile of rubble and in the same breath grabbing his sword, ready to go into battle for his little girl.  An anchor for both of us when our world was turned on it’s axis.
 
I’ll share with her sometimes I would cry in bathroom by myself so the NICU nurses wouldn’t see me.
 
I’ll share with her we used to live those days in 5 minute intervals. Thinking if we made it through just five more minutes, we were doing good.
One day I’ll pull out all of the pictures I have from our months in the NICU and tell her these stories.  I have hundreds upon hundreds of photos.  I heard once you take pictures of things you are afraid of losing……
I’ll share with her that she spent most of that time in her Daddy’s arms.  He held her as much as the nurses would let us.  Hoping and praying some of his strength would transfer over to her.
 
I’ll share with her that at night, it felt like she and I were the only people awake in the world. Cocooned in the darkness with only the hums and beeps of the monitors breaking the quiet.
 
I’ll share with her how I would watch her sleep, in awe of how such a tiny little person was so strong and brave. My fingertips resting lightly on the large scar on her chest.  Feeling her tiny chest rising up and down.  Up and down.  Up and down. 
 
I’ll share with her how at times I felt like I was drowning and then in an instant–she would smile or open her eyes and I was soaring.
One day I’ll tell her how I used to walk around in a daze.  Amazed at how the rest of the world kept going about their day without a care in the world when our entire world was fighting for her life.
 
One day I’ll tell her how scared I was that I was doing every single thing wrong. That I second guessed even what outfit I put her in.
I’ll tell her I prayed and pleaded and made every promise to God–if He just got her through this.  Making bargain after bargain with Him.
 
Maybe one day I’ll tell her I questioned if I was strong enough, smart enough, and good enough to be her mama.
 
But not right now💛

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Jaime

Jaime is a writer, editor, and lifestyle storyteller focused on modern womanhood, slow living, and life after survival mode. As the founder of The Wildflower Edit, she creates thoughtful, beautifully honest content at the intersection of motherhood, disability, emotional healing, and intentional living. Her work invites women to edit their lives with care — keeping what feels true and releasing the rest — for anyone learning to bloom in their own way.

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For the women blooming in unexpected places…..

For the women blooming in unexpected places…..

Hi Y'all

Hi, I’m Jaime — writer, mother, storyteller, and the heart behind The Wildflower Edit. For nearly a decade, I wrote online as The Princess and the Prosthetic, sharing my daughter’s journey with disability and the lessons our family learned along the way. It was a beautiful season — full of advocacy, connection, and community — but as my daughter grew older, I felt a shift. She deserved more autonomy. More privacy. More room to decide how she shows up in the world. And I realized something else: My own story was expanding too. Motherhood was still here. Disability was still here. But so were grief, healing, womanhood, nervous system care, feminine energy, homemaking, identity, softness… the fuller, deeper pieces of life that were ready to be spoken aloud. Whether you come for the cozy routines, the motherhood reflections, the disability advocacy, or the soft life inspiration — thank you for choosing to share this space with me. Pour a warm drink. Settle in. Let’s grow a life that feels like you again.

Jaime

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