I went to each of these people seeking something: support, care, guidance, expertise, an outcome. That was the First River.

But inside my body, I could feel something happening in the Second River that didn’t feel right.

And because of power dynamics, conditioning, and a lifetime of messages telling women to be accommodating, convenient, and “not make waves,” I often went along with it.

For me, Mother’s Day has been tender for a long time.

I remember working in a small retail shop in Portland 12 years ago while customers smiled and asked if I was a mom myself. Even then, in my early 30s, I felt the ache in my heart answering no.

Nature is quietly doing what it does. Changing, growing, holding.

Side by side on the trail, instead of face to face in a room, the women share their stories of loss. There’s space to pause, to cry, to breathe. Somehow, being outside makes it all feel a little more possible to carry.

Beauty and heartbreak.
Hope and exhaustion.
Moments of joy sitting right next to anger, grief, or uncertainty.

It's all true at the same time.