Welcome to Good Life, a newsletter focused on navigating today’s culture while trying to keep our sanity. This week, I want to explore how time spent with our kids feels fleeting and reflect on what it means to me as I think back on the past.

I want to begin by thanking everyone who reached out to me last week. Writing about loss isn’t easy, but your support and prayers really touched me.

Recently, while reflecting on the tragic floods in Texas, it hit me just how quickly my daughter is growing up. It’s easy to still see her as my little girl, especially since she still needs me a lot. But time is racing by faster than I ever realized.

One of my friends finds it incredibly annoying when people say things like “Time is a thief” or “I blink, and they’re grown.” She’s a very rational person, so I get why she reacts that way. We all have the same hours in a day, and time ticks along regardless. That’s a given.

As my eldest son gets ready to start his freshman year of high school this fall, I can’t help but feel like my time with my daughter has been swept away. I wish I could relive those special moments—her first words, losing her first tooth, and that first time she hugged me.

But during a moment over the weekend, as we said our nightly prayer, I was struck by a thought. No matter how tall she gets (and yes, she’s now quite close to my height), she’ll always be my little girl.

As I prayed, I added the flood victims and their families to my intentions. My daughter was sitting with me, and I was surprised when she slipped in close, resting her head on my shoulder. Even though her legs dangled off the chair, it felt just like when she was a toddler. I wrapped my arms around her, and for that moment, everything felt light, relaxed.

My husband smirked knowingly as he started the prayer. He understood how much it meant that she sought comfort from me. These moments give me hope that when she grows up, I’ll still be someone she can lean on.

While I think about this for my daughter, I realize it’s particularly significant since she’s the oldest and hitting all those key milestones first. But I also cherish the fact that my little girl still enjoys snuggling with me.

Sometimes I feel torn between two worlds. There’s my eldest, chatting about high school, boys, and potential colleges, and then there’s the younger ones, drawing creative scenes in their Barbie world.

This juggling act leaves me emotionally drained, I suppose—I can’t quite find a better way to phrase it. I want to shower them all with love and support so that when they’re adults, they know, without a doubt, how grateful I am to be their mom.

So when my daughter snuggled into my arm, I found a brief resolution to my fatigue. In that instant, I wasn’t split between the worlds of teenagers and preschoolers. Everyone felt contained in a single moment.

I’m not sure how many more moments like this I’ll have, but I know this one will always stand out in my memory as I return to my most cherished role.

I often chat about motherhood and the importance of connecting with our children through love and guidance. Yet, in that moment, when my emotions were all over the place, it was actually she who grounded me.

I hope more women realize what they give up when they choose not to have children. There’s no way to truly express the feeling of having someone feel completely safe in your embrace, as if your arms were made of clouds. It takes courage to surrender to the unknown and experience it yourself.

I’m looking forward to all the new experiences we’ll have this year, including her preparing for her first prom. But I can’t help feeling a mix of emotions. Even as she grows older, she still seeks that connection with me, and that gives me hope.

What I noticed this week:

Elon Musk has introduced a concerning new feature in his AI system, Grok, which he calls “friends.” I have a personal rule to be wary of adults who are heavily into anime or related content, so when Musk brought up the characteristics of Grok’s companions, I was already skeptical. The use of the term “companion” risks dehumanizing authentic relationships and replaces true human connection with digital facades. This isn’t progress; it feels more like a loss of human dignity.

Please keep sending your questions or comments about the newsletter to goodlife@dailycaller.com. I can’t respond to them all, but I do my best to read every message! Building this community is one of my favorite aspects of this journey.