Mother’s Day always lands on me a little differently than other holidays.
Part of it is that I am surrounded by mothers. My mom, who shaped so much of who I became, often in ways I did not recognize until much later. My wife, who pours her entire being into our four daughters with a steadiness I find remarkable.
So many of the women on our staff, who carry the work of our practice and the work of their families at the same time. And so many of the patients who come to us for coaching carrying responsibilities most people will never see.
What happens when you give without replenishing?
The nervous system stays in a low hum of stress. Sleep suffers. Patience thins. The body that is meant to be nourishing others starts running on fumes. None of this happens dramatically. It happens slowly, over months and years, in a way that is easy to miss until something gives.
I notice the giving. The quiet, constant giving. The way mothers tend to put themselves last, and then last again, until somewhere along the way “last” begins to feel normal.
In medicine we talk a lot about prevention. About catching things early. About building reserves before a body is depleted. The same principle applies to the rest of life, and especially to mothers.
Is taking time for myself selfish?
No, and I would put it more strongly. Self-care is the thing that makes the giving sustainable. Rest is not selfish. Asking for help is not weakness. Spending an hour, or a weekend, or twelve weeks on your own health is not taking something away from your family.
It is one of the most generous things you can do for them.
You cannot take care of the people you love if you do not also take care of yourself. That is not a motivational line. It is a description of how bodies work.
What I want to say to the mothers reading this
Thank you. To every mother reading this, biological, adoptive, step, chosen, the kind who mothers nieces and nephews and friends and patients. For the meals, the late nights, the worrying, the carpools, the homework, the listening, the showing up.
For the version of yourself the world rarely sees, the one that keeps going long after the energy is gone.
We only get one of these lives. One precious, fast-moving, complicated, beautiful life. The mothers around me have taught me that more than any book ever could.
I hope you receive something. Even if it is small. Even if it is just a moment of stillness. You have earned it many times over.
