The Heart Behind My Beautiful Friend
A dreary afternoon, May 2020. A long day of Zoom meetings. Me, battling morning all-day sickness and fatigue, pregnant with my first baby. COVID lockdown. Fear, isolation, loneliness.
A walk to my mailbox.
A yellow envelope. Familiar, chicken scratch writing.
My dear friend, Ramsey.
"Hi my beautiful friend,"
…she began, as she did in every card, voicemail, and greeting.
My shoulders drop a bit. Tension releases. A sigh. A smile.
My first Mother's Day, marked by a card in the mail, like she did for every other significant milestone and celebration in my life.
To her, a simple gesture. Five minutes at the store, three minutes of writing, one minute to the mailbox and back.
But to me, it was hardly simple.
It was a light in the darkness.
Comfort in the unknown.
A reminder: you are not alone.
A reason to smile.
A moment to pause and feel celebrated.
A reminder that even ordinary days can hold something special.
That’s who Ramsey was. Thoughtful. Sentimental. Your biggest cheerleader. Full of wisdom and strength, giving freely of her time, attention, and energy.
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In the years since her passing, I have missed those cards. With every birthday, anniversary, and milestone that passes, the absence of her is felt. And especially so now, as a mom.
Because this season, I have learned, is beautiful…and also deeply stretching. It can feel full and joyful and still, at times, lonely.
Now, as a mom of three, I feel it in a way I never could have understood before. The long days. The invisible work. The constant giving of yourself. The quiet questions: Am I doing this right? Does anyone else feel this way?
And in my work as a birth doula, I see it over and over again.
- Mothers craving connection.
- Longing to be seen.
- Needing someone to say, "I’m here. I get it. You’re doing amazing."
But I also see this:
- Mothers celebrating small wins.
- Laughing at the chaos.
- Holding so much love it spills over.
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Support doesn’t always have to be grand, or complicated. Sometimes it looks a lot like an envelope in the mailbox.
Something tangible. Personal. Thoughtful.
A small but meaningful interruption in the noise of everyday life.
A reason to feel seen—not just in the hard moments, but in the beautiful ones too.
In many ways, this mail club was born from that realization.
- From missing Ramsey.
- From needing that kind of connection myself.
- From witnessing how powerful it is when mothers feel supported, celebrated, and remembered.
This is my way of carrying that forward.
Each letter is a small offering of encouragement, honesty, and companionship in this season. A place to hold both the hard and the hope. A reminder that even in the messy, ordinary, joy-filled in-between…you are not alone.
Just like she always made me feel. 💗