Dear Friends,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? You might have noticed we’ve taken some time offline this year, both with The Well and in our personal lives, and we wanted to write to you personally about that. We wanted to pull back the curtain and share where we’ve been, because this past year has been a season rich with lessons, testing, and blessings.  

Malissa

I thought I’d start by sharing a bit about my birth story. As many of you know, I became a mother in the fall of 2024 when I gave birth to my son. Although I was as prepared as possible for an unmedicated birth, when the time came for Noah to be born, we were faced with several unexpected challenges during my labour.  

My birth lasted 32 hours of continuous progression, with excruciating back labour as we later discovered my son wasn’t well positioned (he was occipito posterior or “sunny-side up”). My lower back felt like it was going to snap with the pressure. After 24 hours of continuous contractions (and no sleep), my midwife confirmed I was still only 3cm dilated. That moment almost broke me… But things finally ramped up near the end. Within just a couple hours, my contractions went from 5 minutes apart to 1.5 minutes apart. We raced to the hospital and I was already in active labour, unable to walk or speak. My midwife basically had me doing acrobatics across the delivery room while I was fully dilated in order to move the baby into the right position – I cannot even begin to explain how hard this was – and in the end I needed an episiotomy because his head was too big. It felt primal and wild, using all of the hypnobirthing and breathing techniques I’d learned, truly taking every ounce of strength I had to deliver him. By God’s grace he was born very strong and healthy, and the L&D nurses were taking bets on his size. He clocked in at 9 lbs 8 oz – something no one expected. I felt a mixture of euphoric shock and relief. I was super proud of myself and my body for being able to give birth without any medical intervention considering the length of labour, his position, and size, but I also wasn’t prepared for how traumatic the experience was. It changed me instantly. Holding a tiny new life in my arms, it was overwhelming to learn just how much love and exhaustion can coexist. 

There was little time to process the birth as I was immediately faced with breastfeeding challenges with latch issues and a newborn who had severe colic. For the next 3 months, my husband and I took turns as we navigated the dreaded “purple crying” from our newborn. Like clockwork, from 8:00pm – 1:00am, he would scream inconsolably each night. No amount of breastfeeding, bathing, swaddling, massaging, leg pumping, football holding, midnight strollering, or car rides worked. When he did finally sleep, I was up every other hour for feeds. I truly felt like I was a shell of a human those first 100 days as I faced utter exhaustion, anxiety, and my body healing from birth – a myriad of ailments I had no idea could happen postpartum.

It took a while for me to feel like I could truly bond with my baby, since I was functioning from survival mode and trying to figure out how to keep a tiny human alive. But eventually, things did get better. I felt like I understood every mother in my life on a whole new level, with a completely different kind of respect. It took me the better part of a year to process the birth and talk about it without bursting into tears – and sometimes I still do. New motherhood can be extremely challenging, and it demands everything of you. But I also never knew a love like this could exist before I had my son, and it only continues to grow stronger every single day. 

We started looking for a new home when Noah was just 4 months old, bringing him with us on countless showings in neighbouring cities. We finally bought our first house, something we had been looking forward to for years. We got busy with painting and renovating the house, making the space our own, and exploring new churches in the area. I also came to the end of my maternity leave, so we have been navigating my return to work full-time with a little one. 

Needless to say, it’s been a packed year full of indescribable joy, challenges, and transition. God has been teaching me, day by day, about my limits: about the need to let go of my previous standards, and about how much I need to rely on His grace every single day. I feel an immense amount of gratitude to be a mama to this little boy. I realized early on that I cannot and will not raise this child without the steady hand and guidance of the Lord. Everything about my life and my identity has shifted. Becoming a parent has opened my heart to the depth of God’s sacrifice of His only son in a way I never understood before. I see it differently now, more fully, more personally, and I am still learning all the time about what it means to point my child to Jesus in all of the everyday little moments.

Nicole

It’s hard to find the words to describe this past year. In many ways, it felt like a season in the wilderness — marked by testing, refining, and deep growth. I got married in the summer of 2024 — a beautiful testimony to God’s faithfulness after years of waiting. But almost as soon as we returned from our honeymoon, it felt as though we stepped straight into the fire, one that only seemed to intensify in the months that followed.

Shortly after, I became pregnant. My husband and I were overjoyed, finally stepping toward a dream we had both longed for for so long. However, that joy quickly turned to worry as the first trimester became a rollercoaster of uncertainty trying to determine whether the pregnancy was viable. I ended up facing pregnancy loss, underwent multiple D&C’s, and continuing health challenges thereafter. It was discovered that I had a complete molar pregnancy, a rare condition where the cells become a benign tumour instead of a fetus. If not completely removed, the tumor can become cancerous — and that terrifying possibility is exactly what happened.

For the next 10 months, I was taking weekly blood tests and monthly oncologist appointments at the hospital, the entire time facing the possibility of needing chemotherapy. In the midst of this reality, my father was suddenly diagnosed with grade IV brain cancer; it was discovered that he had a glioblastoma. We were told he may only have a few months to live. After waiting on multiple scans and tests, he underwent brain surgery to remove the tumour – however, within a few days, the tumour had already grown back twice as big as before. 

My faith was tested like never before, and questions about God’s goodness, my own strength, and the very nature of suffering became daily companions. I wrestled with authority, with healing, with the power of prayer, and with the depth of my belief in God. There were moments of silence so deep that I wondered if God had stepped away from me entirely. I wrestled with questions I wasn’t sure had answers. And yet, in that wilderness, I felt Him shaping me, stretching my understanding of what it means to trust Him completely — even when life feels unrecognizable, even when the path forward is unclear.

With where we stand today, I have witnessed God’s hand move in miraculous ways through both my father’s journey and my own. In the waiting for healing, I was blessed with an oncologist who honored my choice to delay chemotherapy until absolutely necessary. Through His grace, God healed me on His own timetable, and I am now officially discharged from BC Cancer.

As for my father, we were told that his treatment would only be preventative and not curative. Yet from the very first stages of his treatment, we have seen God shrink his tumor by 50% — an extraordinary and rare outcome. We continue to trust Him for complete healing over my father, and I deeply appreciate your prayers as we walk this path.

I would never want to relive this season, yet I know I would not be who I am without it. I am grateful for the previous misconceptions about God that have been stripped away, and for the lessons I have learned about His character and the authority we have in Him. Even in suffering, I can see His goodness, and I am profoundly thankful for the way this wilderness season tested, refined, and ultimately strengthened my faith.

Together

Together, we have walked through seasons that tested every part of our hearts, our faith, and our understanding of God. We have learned what it truly means to believe in His goodness in the hardest moments. We’ve learned what it means to truly lean into Him, to face our limits, and to find grace even when it feels impossible. We’ve tasted the depth of Jesus’ love and sacrifice in a way that has forever changed how we see the work of God in our lives. We understand more deeply what Jesus endured — the isolation, the heartbreak, the burden — and how He carried it with love. We feel His presence in ways that are richer, more nuanced, and more life-giving than we could have imagined before this season.

Throughout this time, although we needed space to navigate this season, we never stopped meeting and praying over The Well Practice. We always wanted to create a sacred space for honest conversations with God, with one another, and with ourselves. And after this season, we are more committed than ever to walking this path with you — to wrestling with hard questions without shame or fear, to sharing what God has been teaching us, and to creating space for your stories alongside ours.

We hope you’ll walk with us again. Let’s rediscover the life and love of Jesus together — in every challenge, in every blessing, and in every quiet moment in between.

With love,
Malissa & Nicole