Becoming While Grieving: My Identity and My Foundation

As I stepped into 2026, I did not enter with certainty or clarity. I entered honestly, while grieving out loud. I am learning that this season is not about having everything figured out. It is about understanding who I am while I am still in the middle of the process.

Grief has a way of disrupting identity. It changes how you see yourself, how you show up, and what you are able to carry. I am functioning, but I am tired. I am present, but I am still battling emotionally. What I am learning is that identity is not built in moments of ease. It is revealed in moments of uncertainty.

One scripture that has been speaking to me deeply is 2 Corinthians 5:17. It says, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”

This verse does not rush healing. It speaks to belonging before behavior. My identity is not rooted in how well I am holding it together. It is rooted in being in Christ. Even in grief, even in confusion, even when I feel unsettled, I still belong.

Being a new creation does not mean I no longer grieve or struggle. It means God is reshaping me in the middle of it. The old that has passed away is not just sin or brokenness. It is seasons, roles, and versions of life that no longer exist. For me, that includes the version of motherhood I once knew and the identity I carried as a medical mom.

Acknowledging that something has passed away is painful, but it is also honest. God does not dismiss what has ended. He meets us there and begins again.

The new that has come does not arrive fully formed. It unfolds slowly. It looks like becoming aware of my limits, learning how to ask for help, and allowing my faith to be quieter but deeper. It looks like standing on a different foundation than before.

Right now, my foundation is my two living children, Jahmari and Taliyah. They ground me. They give me reason to keep moving forward when my heart feels heavy. They remind me that my presence matters, not just my productivity.

At the same time, Jahmya’s legacy remains deeply rooted in my life. Through Uniqly Made Foundation, her love, strength, and resilience continue to live on. What I am building is not centered on her loss, but on her life. Her story is part of my foundation, not something that holds me back from it.

Ultimately, my foundation is God. Even when my faith feels quiet. Even when my prayers feel unanswered. Even when I am rebuilding from broken places. God remains steady when everything else feels unsure.

If you are reading this and you feel like your identity has shifted or your foundation has been shaken, know that you are not failing. You may simply be becoming. You are allowed to grieve what has passed and still trust that something new is forming within you.

I am learning to encourage myself with this truth. I am still here. I am still standing. I am still becoming. And so are you.