Finding Hope After Loss: A Holistic Perspective

Hey everyone! 

It’s been a while since I’ve written here, and life has been… well, the definition of insanity lately.

I’ve gone back and forth about writing this post. Part of me wants to keep things light—share math tips, holistic swaps, and glimpses of life as a mom working from home with toddlers. But another part of me knows that the whole point of being the “holistic mom friend” is showing up as I really am. And the truth is, my family’s story includes both joy and loss.

This past year, we said hello and goodbye to our third baby, Myla Claire. On June 12, 2025, we received the devastating news that Myla had gone to be with Jesus at 32 weeks gestation, and she was born sleeping on June 19^th, 2025. I never actually announced online that we were expecting—life with two toddlers and work kept me busy, and I was actually planning an announcement in just a few weeks. Instead, the first post most people saw was the hardest one I’ve ever written: that Myla Claire was stillborn, and when her funeral would be.

I want to share more of her story—not because it’s easy, but because she matters. She’s part of our family, even if she’s not in our arms. And telling her story is one of the ways we honor her, and in part is a release for me.

You might be wondering why I’d bring something so personal into a space where I also talk about algebra and low-tox living. The answer is simple: because life doesn’t come in neat boxes. I’m not just a math teacher. I’m not just a crunchy mom. I’m a whole person, and if you’re reading this, so are you.

Holistic living, at its heart, means tending to the whole picture—not just our health routines, our food or remedies, or even our home life. It’s also about our work, our stories, our bodies, our emotions, our faith, and our families.

Holistic living includes the messy parts. The parts that are hard to talk about. The grief, the loss, the moments that leave us feeling raw. Embracing holistic living doesn’t mean life is perfect or that we are exempt from tragedy—it means we show up fully, even when it’s hard.

So over the next several weeks, and through the next several blog posts, I’ll be sharing Myla’s story—her story, her birth, and what life looks like after loss, but most importantly how God’s hand has been evident and tangible in ways we couldn’t have ever imagined. He has provided for our every need throughout this difficult season, and I would be remiss if I didn’t share the hope of Christ as I share Myla’s story. My hope is that in sharing, another mom out there who feels alone might know she isn’t, and that if you are a Christian, we don’t mourn as those without hope. I have no doubt that Myla is dancing in heaven with her great grandparents and her grandpa, and that we will see her again in heaven. 

I’m taking a break from social media, so if you’d like to follow my life and Myla’s story more closely, I’ll be sharing her journey in greater detail through my email list over the next several weeks. You can subscribe [here] to receive each post directly in your inbox—it’s where I’ll share the tender moments, reflections, and lessons I’ve learned as we navigate life after loss. It’s going to become my journal of sorts – I want to share my life, but in the more intimate setting of email, vs. for the whole world to see on social media. I hope you will join me! 

If you’re here for the math resources, don’t worry—they aren’t going anywhere (PS: I’ve got several new courses and activities in the works!). But for now, I’m holding space for both: teaching math with clarity and sharing motherhood with honesty. Because both are part of me, and both are part of the story I want to tell. 

Thanks for being here with me.

— Carolyn