An Interview with Natalee P. Starkes

Natalee P. Starkes is a wife, mother, educator, school leader, content creator, and first-time author from South Carolina. She earned a Bachelor of Science in Early Childhood Education from Winthrop University and a Master of Education in Educational Administration from the University of South Carolina. Natalee is also a proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated, an organization whose commitment to service, leadership, and community continues to influence both her personal and professional life.

Natalee currently serves as an assistant principal, where she is passionate about building strong relationships, supporting teachers and families, and creating systems that help every child thrive. Throughout her career in education, she has remained committed to the belief that all children deserve to feel seen, valued, challenged, and loved.

While education is her profession, storytelling became personal after the birth of her son, Choen. Following a complicated delivery, Choen spent twenty-one days in the NICU and was diagnosed with severe hypoxic-ischemic encephalopathy (HIE). That experience forever changed the way Natalee views motherhood, faith, resilience, and the power of simply being present.

Inspired by her family’s journey, she wrote Still Growing, a gentle picture book for families navigating uncertainty, waiting, and hope. Through her writing, Natalee hopes to create the kind of comfort she searched for during some of the hardest days of her own life.

When she’s not at school or writing, Natalee enjoys fashion, creating content on TikTok, crafting with her Cricut, and making memories with her husband, Cortez, their son, Choen, and their dog, Nyla.

Above all else, she believes that growth is often happening long before we can see it.

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What inspired you to start writing this book?

This book was inspired by my son, Choen, my firstborn.

Before he was born, Choen was a very active baby in the womb. He kicked constantly. He moved all the time. Even before I met him, he already seemed to have a big personality. When I noticed a decrease in his movement, my husband and I trusted my instincts and went to the ER.

At thirty-six weeks and three days, I delivered Choen by emergency C-section. We thought we were simply meeting our baby boy a little earlier than expected. We had no idea our lives were about to change forever.

When Choen was born, he was not breathing on his own.

What followed were eight of the longest minutes of my life.

As I lay on the operating table being stitched back together, I could hear doctors and nurses fighting to save my son. I could hear the urgency in their voices. I could hear the CPR being performed. I could hear everything, yet there was absolutely nothing I could do.

No mother imagines meeting her child that way.

Because Choen needed a higher level of care, he was transferred to another hospital’s NICU almost immediately. Everything happened so fast that I never got the chance to see him after he was born. In fact, the very first time I saw my son was while we were both being transported to the larger hospital. We passed each other on stretchers while being loaded into separate ambulances.

That was it.

One brief glance.

One moment.

Then we were taken in different directions.

I didn’t get to hold my baby until the eighth day of his life.

Those first days were filled with fear, exhaustion, and more uncertainty than I knew a person could carry. During his first seventy-two hours, Choen underwent therapeutic hypothermia, a treatment used to help protect the brain after oxygen deprivation. He was heavily sedated while doctors monitored him closely, and my husband and I spent those days doing what so many NICU parents do. We watched. We waited. We prayed.

Eventually, we learned that Choen had suffered a severe brain injury called hypoxic-ischemic encephalopathy, or HIE, caused by a lack of oxygen and blood flow around the time of birth. His scans showed significant injury and bleeding. We were devastated. We were terrified. And perhaps most difficult of all, we had no idea what any of it would mean for his future.

Truthfully, we still don’t know exactly how or why this happened.

As if that wasn’t enough, Choen began having seizures during his first week of life. Every conversation with a doctor seemed to bring another unknown. Another possibility. Another reason to worry.

One of the hardest parts of our journey wasn’t the hospital equipment, the alarms, or even the diagnoses.

It was the waiting.

People would ask how our baby was doing, and many days we genuinely didn’t know how to answer. We spent countless hours sitting beside his bed, staring at monitors, listening to alarms, watching numbers rise and fall, and waiting for someone to tell us what came next.

Some days brought hope.

Some days brought heartbreak.

Some days brought both.

We were told there were moments when Choen might not make it through the night. At times, it felt like survival was measured minute by minute. Every day brought questions that no one could answer. We found ourselves trapped in the exhausting cycle so many medically complex families know all too well. Wait and see. Wait and see. Wait and see.

Yet through every setback, every difficult conversation, and every frightening unknown, my husband and I never stopped believing in our son and our faith remained consistent.

That season changed me.

Before becoming Choen’s mother, I believed hard work, planning, and preparation could solve almost anything. The NICU taught me otherwise. It taught me that some situations cannot be fixed, controlled, rushed, or planned away. Sometimes all you have is the present moment. Sometimes all you can do is love the person in front of you and keep showing up.

Still Growing was born from those lessons.

I wrote it for the families sitting beside hospital beds. For the parents living in uncertainty. For the caregivers who are exhausted from hearing “wait and see” when all they want are answers.

I wanted to create something honest.

Not a book filled with guarantees.

Not a book built on false hope.

But a book that gently acknowledges fear, grief, uncertainty, and unanswered questions while still making room for hope.

Most of all, I wanted families to know that even when nothing seems to be changing, important things are still happening.

Growth is still happening.

Love is still happening.

And sometimes the most meaningful growth happens in the waiting.

Tell us the story of your book’s current title. Was it easy to find, or did it take forever?

Surprisingly, the title came pretty easily.

From the very beginning, I kept coming back to the idea of growth. Not the kind of growth we usually celebrate. Not the big milestones, major breakthroughs, or dramatic success stories. I found myself thinking about the quiet kind of growth. The kind that happens when no one is clapping. The kind that often goes unnoticed.

As a NICU parent, you quickly learn that growth looks different.

Sometimes growth is surviving another day.

Sometimes it’s a stable monitor.

Sometimes it’s a good report from a doctor.

Sometimes it’s simply making it through a difficult moment you never imagined you’d face.

During our NICU journey, there were days when it felt like nothing was changing. We were waiting for answers, waiting for progress, waiting for test results, waiting for someone to tell us what came next. From the outside, it probably looked like we were standing still.

But we weren’t.

Choen was growing.

My husband and I were growing.

Our faith was growing.

Our resilience was growing.

Our capacity to love through uncertainty was growing.

The title Still Growing felt like the perfect reflection of everything we were living through.

The seed imagery throughout the book is symbolic rather than literal. I never wanted growth to feel rushed, forced, or tied to a specific outcome. I wanted it to feel protected. Nurtured. Allowed to unfold in its own time. Because that’s what I learned through our journey.

Growth isn’t always obvious. Growth isn’t always measurable. And growth isn’t always happening in the way we expected.

Sometimes growth is happening in the waiting.

Sometimes it’s happening in the hard moments.

Sometimes it’s happening long before anyone else can see it.

At its core, that’s what Still Growing is really about.

Describe your dream book cover.

My dream book cover feels peaceful before it feels beautiful.

When I think about the families who might pick up this book, I imagine exhausted parents sitting beside hospital beds, waiting rooms, incubators, and monitors. I imagine caregivers carrying fear, uncertainty, hope, and love all at the same time. Before they ever read a single word, I want the cover to feel like a deep breath. I want it to quietly say, “You’re safe here.”

I am drawn to soft, painterly artwork with subtle mixed-media texture, gentle lighting, and a calm, muted color palette. Nothing harsh. Nothing overwhelming. Just warmth, tenderness, and a sense of peace.

Because this story was inspired by my own family, representation is incredibly important to me. As a Black mother, I want Black families to see themselves reflected in the pages of this book. Too often, families like mine are missing from stories centered around vulnerability, caregiving, and tenderness. I would love to see Black parental hands featured prominently, with faces mostly unseen so that readers from all backgrounds can see themselves in the story while still honoring the family’s inspiration.

More than anything, I want the cover to capture the feeling of being held. Not physically held, necessarily, but emotionally held.

I imagine gentle hands, soft light, and imagery that communicates care, presence, and love. The kind of love that stays when there are no answers. The kind of love that shows up day after day, even in the waiting.

I don’t want a cover that feels dramatic or designed for attention. I want a cover that feels honest. A cover that reflects the heart of the book itself.

The goal isn’t spectacle.

The goal is comfort.

If your book had a soundtrack, what are some songs that would be on it?

Music carried me through some of the hardest moments of my life, so this question was actually pretty easy.

If Still Growing had a soundtrack, it would be filled with songs that reflect faith, perseverance, hope, and the decision to keep trusting even when life doesn’t make sense.

One song that would absolutely be on the list is No Weapon by Fred Hammond. During our NICU journey, there were so many moments when fear tried to take over. That song reminds me that challenges may come, but they don’t get the final say.

Can’t Give Up Now by Mary Mary would be another. There were days when we felt exhausted, overwhelmed, and emotionally drained, but giving up was never an option. As parents, we just kept showing up one day at a time.

Trust in God by Maverick City Music speaks directly to the journey my husband and I have been on. There were countless moments when we had more questions than answers, and faith became the thing we held onto when certainty wasn’t available.

Find Me Here by Sherwin Gardner captures the posture I found myself returning to over and over again. In the waiting. In the uncertainty. In the prayers whispered beside a hospital bed.

Bless Me by Maverick City Music and Kirk Franklin reminds me that even in difficult seasons, there is still so much to be grateful for. Life didn’t unfold the way we expected, but God’s presence never left us.

Just Want to Praise You by Maurette Brown Clark represents the perspective I eventually gained through our journey. Not because everything was easy, but because gratitude can exist alongside hardship.

And finally, Praise Him in Advance by Marvin Sapp. That song perfectly captures what it means to have faith before you have answers. Before the breakthrough. Before the outcome. Before you know how the story ends.

If I had to sum up the soundtrack of Still Growing in one sentence, it would be: Faith in the middle of uncertainty.

Those songs remind me that hope isn’t something you find after the storm passes. Sometimes hope is what carries you through it.

What books are you reading (for research or comfort) as you continue the writing process?

Honestly, this answer probably isn’t as impressive as it should be.

At this stage of life, I spend far more time reading therapy notes, medical reports, school data, emails, and children’s books than I do reading for myself. Between being an assistant principal, a wife, a mom, and navigating our family’s medical journey, finding uninterrupted reading time can be a challenge.

Truthfully, some of my greatest lessons haven’t come from books lately. They’ve come from living. From motherhood. From marriage. From faith. From grief. From uncertainty. And from learning how to find joy and gratitude in seasons that didn’t unfold the way I expected.

That said, I am always drawn to books that explore Black women’s experiences, leadership, motherhood, mental wellness, faith, and personal growth. As a Black woman, a leader, and a mother, I’m deeply interested in stories that explore resilience, identity, purpose, rest, and what it means to navigate life authentically.

A few books that are currently on my shelf or waiting patiently on my reading list include:

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde

Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes

Professional Troublemaker by Luvvie Ajayi Jones

Rest Is Resistance by Tricia Hersey

I appreciate books that challenge us to think differently about success, rest, leadership, and self-worth. As Black women, we’re often taught how to persevere, push through, and carry more than our share. I’m drawn to voices that remind us we’re allowed to be human, too.

What other professions have you worked in? What’s something about you that your readers wouldn’t know?

Education has been my entire professional career. Before becoming an assistant principal, I taught both first and fourth grade, and working with children and families has always been at the heart of what I do. Whether I’m supporting students at school or writing a book for families navigating difficult circumstances, my goal is the same. I want people to feel seen, supported, and encouraged.

Something readers might not know about me is that writing is actually one of the newest things I’ve ever done. If you had asked me a few years ago whether I would become an author, I probably would have laughed. It was never part of some grand plan. I didn’t grow up dreaming of publishing books. I became a writer because life handed me a story I couldn’t keep to myself.

Most people are surprised to learn that outside of education and writing, I’m actually a pretty creative person. I love fashion, putting together outfits, crafting with my Cricut, decorating, and creating content on TikTok. On any given day, I might be handling student discipline, reviewing school data, filming an outfit video, researching medical information, or working on a children’s book. My life is a little bit of everything, and honestly, that’s how I like it.

I also think people sometimes assume that because I work in leadership, I always have it all together. The truth is, I’m still learning as I go. Becoming Choen’s mother changed me in ways I never expected. It taught me that strength and vulnerability can exist at the same time. It taught me that faith doesn’t always mean having answers. Sometimes it means moving forward without them.

At my core, though, I’m simply a wife, a mother, and a woman trying to navigate life the best I can. The lessons I’ve learned through motherhood, marriage, leadership, and our family’s medical journey have shaped who I am, how I lead, and ultimately, the stories I want to tell.

Who/what made you want to write? Was there a particular person, or particular writers/works/art forms that influenced you?

I never set out to become an author. Honestly, my son made me one.

Before Choen’s birth, I enjoyed writing, but I never imagined publishing a book. I wasn’t sitting around dreaming about becoming an author or planning out future book ideas. My life revolved around education, leadership, family, and the everyday responsibilities that come with them.

Then Choen was born, and everything changed.

Our NICU journey challenged me in ways I never expected. It forced me to sit with uncertainty, fear, grief, hope, and faith all at the same time. There were moments when I felt strong and moments when I felt completely broken. There were days filled with encouragement and days filled with questions no one could answer.

Long after we left the hospital, I found myself carrying those experiences with me. I kept thinking about the families who were still sitting beside hospital beds. The families waiting for test results. The families being told to “wait and see.” The families trying to hold onto hope while navigating circumstances they never asked for.

I realized that while there were many books that celebrated happy endings, I struggled to find one that truly spoke to the experience of living in the middle of the unknown. I wanted something honest. Something gentle. Something that made room for both hope and uncertainty. That’s where Still Growing began.

Writing became a way for me to process what my family had lived through, but it also became an opportunity to create something I wish I had during our own journey.

More than anything, I wanted families facing uncertainty to feel less alone. I wanted them to know that it’s okay not to have all the answers. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be hopeful.

And it’s okay if you’re still learning how to navigate the season you’re in.

If there was one person who made me want to write this book, it was Choen. Every page exists because of him. His strength, his resilience, and the lessons he taught me continue to inspire not only this book, but the person I am becoming.

Where is your favorite place to write?

My bed, without question.

I know that’s probably not the answer people expect. There are no fancy writing retreats, cozy coffee shops, or beautifully curated writing spaces over here. Just me, my bed, and usually about fifteen other things I should probably be doing instead.

But honestly, that’s where I feel most like myself.

Life moves fast. Between being an assistant principal, a wife, a mom, and everything that comes with navigating our family’s journey, quiet moments can be hard to find. My bed is one of the few places where I can slow down, think, reflect, and simply be.

It’s my comfort place. It’s where I process. It’s where I pray. It’s where I dream. And apparently, it’s where I write.

Some of my most honest thoughts show up when there’s no pressure to perform, no expectations, and no distractions. Just me sitting with my thoughts and letting them find their way onto the page.

The truth is, Still Growing was never written from a place of perfection. It was written from real life. From late nights. From exhaustion. From reflection. From gratitude. From heartbreak. From hope.

So, it feels fitting that many of those words were written from the place where I felt safest to tell the truth.

What advice would you give your past self at the start of your writing journey?

Be honest before you try to be impressive.

If I could go back and give myself one piece of advice, it would be to stop worrying so much about whether the writing sounds good and focus more on whether it feels true.

When I first started writing, I think I was looking for the perfect words. The perfect sentence. The perfect way to explain something. But I’ve learned that readers don’t connect to perfection. They connect to honesty.

The moments people tend to respond to most are usually the moments that felt the hardest to write. The vulnerable ones. The messy ones. The parts of the story that make you wonder if you’re sharing too much.

Those are often the moments that remind someone else they aren’t alone.

I’d also remind myself that every story doesn’t need to have all the answers. As someone who likes to plan, solve problems, and help people, that was a difficult lesson for me to learn. I wanted everything neatly wrapped up. I wanted certainty. I wanted conclusions.

Life doesn’t always work that way.

Neither does writing.

Sometimes the most meaningful thing you can do is tell the truth about where you are, even if you’re still in the middle of the story yourself.

Most importantly, I would tell myself to focus less on what I want people to think when they read my work and more on what I want them to feel when they finish it.

If someone closes Still Growing feeling seen, understood, encouraged, or a little less alone than they did before they opened it, then I’ve done exactly what I set out to do.

What’s one thing you hope sticks with readers after they finish your book?

More than anything, I hope readers walk away understanding that uncertainty is part of being human.

We spend so much of our lives trying to predict what comes next, create plans, control outcomes, and prepare for every possible scenario. I know I did. I’ve always been someone who likes a plan. I like knowing where I’m headed and what comes next.

Then life reminded me that some things simply cannot be planned.

Our NICU journey taught me that there are seasons when the answers don’t come. Seasons when there is no timeline. Seasons when the best anyone can offer is, “We’ll have to wait and see.”

And if I’m being honest, I hated that.

But somewhere in that waiting, I learned something important.

Life doesn’t stop being meaningful just because you don’t know how the story ends.

There is still love in the waiting.

There is still joy in the waiting.

There is still growth in the waiting.

I hope readers finish this book with the reminder that even when answers are missing, the moment they’re living right now still matters. The people they love still matter. The small victories still matter.

And even when it feels like nothing is changing, growth may be happening in ways they cannot yet see.

Sometimes the most meaningful parts of our story are being written in the chapters we’d never choose for ourselves. That’s what I hope readers carry with them long after they close the book.

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Are you a writer, too? Submit your manuscript to Atmosphere Press.