I love being Beckham’s mom. That is undeniable. My love for him, and for Jaxson, is one of the most unwavering, steady, and irrefutable parts of my life. I love waking up to his smile. I love hearing him coo back at me when I talk to him. I love nursing him, holding him, comforting him, and being the person he searches for when he needs to feel safe. I love that I am his mom. And I wouldn’t trade this life for the one I had before him. But lately, I’ve realized something else

When I found out about Beckham’s diagnosis, there were a million fears running through my mind. But one of them had nothing to do with Beckham himself. I was scared about what it would mean for my older son, Jaxson. I knew Beckham’s medical needs would inevitably require a significant amount of our time and attention—especially during infancy, but also beyond it, too. And I worried about what that would mean for Jaxson. Would he feel forgotten? Would he feel like he wasn’t as

For a long time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share this part of my story. It’s messy. It’s vulnerable. And honestly, it’s not the version of pregnancy we’re often shown—the glowing, joyful, picture-perfect journey we’re expected to have. But I think there is value in telling the parts of our stories that are harder to say out loud. Because the truth is, you can desperately love your baby and still struggle. You can be incredibly grateful for a pregnancy while simultaneously