For the past two years, I’ve been immersed in physical therapy, and I can’t help but point fingers at my kids. Years ago, I tuned into a makeover reality show where a woman, with messy hair and weary eyes, lamented that she “let herself go” after having children. Back then, I thought, “How sad! Who would allow that to happen?” Fast forward seven years and two kids later: that sad individual is me.
“Letting yourself go” extends beyond physical appearance—it reflects a complete neglect of self-care, both physically and emotionally. I could have starred in my own version of “Gone, Girl”—lost, confused, and questioning, “Where did I go?”
Although I consider myself incredibly fortunate to be a mother, I’ve sacrificed too much of myself for my family. My time in physical therapy has taught me the harsh reality of a body in disarray: one issue leads to another, creating a chain reaction of physical problems. My injured knee weakened my quadriceps, causing my kneecap to shift, making stairs impossible, leading to overcompensation in my hips, which then hurt… the list goes on. I found myself sway-backed like an elderly horse, with my neck jutting out like a curious bird.
Physical therapy became a humbling acknowledgment of my shortcomings. I discovered that my posture was incorrect, my walking was flawed, and even my balance was off. It was as educational as it was emotional. I felt anger bubbling inside me—why was this happening? Was it my children’s fault? While I know my injuries trace back to a skiing accident, it’s much easier to blame my kids, who are right in front of me, rather than that reckless skier in Colorado. This blame weighs heavily on my shoulders, feeling far more burdensome than carrying a 40-pound toddler.
Coincidentally, I began experiencing anxiety around the time my body began to falter, coinciding with the arrival of my second child. I was diagnosed with a peculiar congenital eye condition, ground my teeth down to nubs, and felt eternally exhausted. My children didn’t shatter my back; they simply added the final straws to a burden I was already struggling to carry. It became clear that I could no longer care for my family without first caring for myself.
I stopped waiting for someone to swoop in and rescue me from exhaustion, much like Mariah Carey’s publicist cancelling her world tour. Despite feeling like I was on the same track as my 90-year-old neighbor and often thinking, “Ugh, the weight of standing!” I began to truly appreciate the simple act of being upright. I sought a team of professionals to support me: a massage therapist for my hips, a psychotherapist for my mind, a pilates instructor for my body, and a dependable babysitter (and a backup babysitter, and even my dad) to help me attend these appointments.
I learned to cherish even the smallest movements. I accepted that running might not be a part of my future and that my shoulder and posture issues would likely be lifelong challenges. My physical therapist reassured me that this was just how my body was made—amen to that!
I stopped picking up my three-year-old every time he requested it. I embraced naps, did leg lifts and shoulder exercises, and invested in tools like rollers, ankle weights, and resistance bands. The fear of not being able to keep up with my boys pushed me forward; I wanted to explore the world with them and not struggle to climb the stairs to my own bedroom.
Most importantly, I realized that being a mother doesn’t mean being a martyr. Putting myself back into the equation does not take away from my children; rather, it enriches all our lives.
Now, I’ve graduated from physical therapy. My shoulders have returned to their rightful places, and I can often ascend stairs without discomfort. Saying goodbye to PT was challenging; I feared whether I could maintain my progress alone. The ultimate question lingered: could I care for myself independently? The answer is yes, but I’m not truly alone. With the love and humor from my three-year-old, my six-year-old, and my husband, I’ve been pieced back together.
While motherhood may have cracked me open, it has also become a source of healing.
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In summary, motherhood can take a toll on the body, but it’s essential to prioritize self-care. The journey may be difficult, but with support and a commitment to well-being, it’s possible to reclaim your health and happiness.
Keyphrase: motherhood and self-care
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