Reflections on Motherhood, Resilience, and Recovery
As I spend this week with my grandchildren, I find myself reflecting on the years I spent as a single parent.
Those were long, challenging years where I carried the weight of everything—working to provide, keeping the house in order (or at least trying to), cooking meals, shuttling kids to and from school and activities, and doing my best to be present for all their important moments. I gave everything I had, and yet, for so many years, I judged myself for not doing more.
Standing at the sink, washing dishes while my grandchildren play with Play-Doh, I’m reminded of all the times I felt like I was falling short. I used to berate myself for not being a better housekeeper, for not earning more, for not having the time or energy to be everything to everyone. The housework often had to wait because time with my children came first. And yet, in a world that values spotless homes over full hearts, I internalized the idea that I wasn’t enough.
We didn’t always have the most nutritious meals—sometimes, we had to make do with whatever was available. I remember the kindness of neighbors who shared flats of misfit eggs and leftover ham bones from a restaurant, my brother bringing home salvaged food that companies discarded simply because of packaging changes. I learned how to stretch every dollar, how to turn scraps into something that still nourished my children. Those experiences shaped my deep appreciation for food today. As I prepare meals for my grandchildren now, I recognize how fortunate I am to have access to an abundance of healthy ingredients. I don’t take that for granted. And while my grandchildren don’t always want to eat what’s on their plate, I still encourage them to try—because you can’t say you don’t like something if you’ve never given it a chance.
I also reflect on the values I want to pass down.
I know times have changed, but I still believe in teaching children respect—for their elders, for the people who prepare their meals, for each other. In my day, if I had a parenting challenge, I could call my mom, and she would guide me, sometimes correct me, but always support me. That foundation helped me raise grounded children, and I want the same for my grandchildren. Simple things like saying “please” and “thank you” aren’t just about manners—they’re about gratitude, about acknowledging the effort someone else has made. That kind of appreciation carries into adulthood, shaping the way we move through the world.
I’ve also spent time this week encouraging my grandchildren to speak kindly to each other, even in disagreement. Siblings are the people who will walk through life with you, and learning to navigate conflict with love and respect is a skill that will serve them forever. And while I believe in allowing children to make choices, I also believe that not all decisions should rest on their small shoulders. Giving a child too many choices—especially ones they don’t yet have the capacity to fully understand—can feel more like a burden than a gift. My role as a grandparent is to provide guidance, to make responsible decisions in their best interest, and to help them develop the skills to make thoughtful choices as they grow. Sometimes that means disappointment, sometimes that means learning about consequences. These lessons, as hard as they may be, prepare them for real life.
One of the biggest realizations I’ve had during this week is how much stress accumulates in the body over time.
Yes, my health struggles stem from a major accident and the emergency surgeries that followed, but they were also compounded by years of relentless responsibility. The constant weight of doing it all, of pushing through exhaustion, of never allowing myself to pause—it all took a toll. I now see how important it is to help women navigate that same feeling of burnout and overwhelm, to support them in rebuilding after a health crisis, to remind them that they don’t have to carry everything alone.
This is why I do the work I do.
Because I know what it feels like to be stretched so thin you can’t see a way forward. Because I know how easy it is to put yourself last when there are so many demands on your time and energy. And because I’ve learned, the hard way, that healing—true, deep, lasting healing—requires acknowledging the weight we’ve carried, forgiving ourselves for the times we thought we weren’t enough, and allowing ourselves the space to recover.
Spending this time with my grandchildren has been a gift. Cooking for them, playing with them, cleaning up after them—it’s all given me the space to reflect on just how much I have accomplished. I may not have an ivy league education but I am a graduate of a life fully lived.
And that, in itself, is something to be proud of.
