Aaron and I were in a couples therapy session last week, and I found myself in a tender, emotional place while reflecting on Mother’s Day weekend. In the quiet pause after I spoke, our therapist said something that landed deeply:
“Whitney, you’re feeling something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel before. A love and depth that’s hard to sit with — so you focus your energy on caring for everyone else.”
I exhaled. Tears welled. I nodded.
Yes, I am good at “taking care” of myself — eating well, moving my body, setting boundaries — so that I can show up for my family. But this… this is something different. It’s deeper. It’s raw. It’s tender. These are emotions I didn’t truly access until becoming a mother.
A love so vast it aches.
A tenderness so true it feels almost too sacred to touch.
I’ve always been the fixer in my family. Now, with a husband and child, I often catch myself trying to fix things for them, too — because holding the full weight of my inner experience is, honestly, really hard.
But here’s what I’m starting to understand:
Caring for ourselves isn’t selfish. It’s sacred.
And it’s more than a bubble bath or a solo walk. It’s a deep remembering.
It’s re-mothering — a tender, intentional return to the parts of us we’ve abandoned, a coming home to the little girl within who learned to push her feelings aside so others could be comfortable. It’s meeting her now with grace, softness, and unwavering love.
It’s slowing down.
Listening inward.
Asking, “What do I need right now?”
It’s tuning in to the sensations in your body, the whispers in your heart.
Motherhood, as it’s often modeled, doesn’t leave much room for this kind of attunement. We’re taught to give more, do more, be more — to lose ourselves in the name of being a “good mom.”
But I feel a shift.
I see it in the women around me.
We are reclaiming our softness.
We are honoring our rest.
We are choosing care — for our children and for ourselves.
Because guilt runs deep.
Because perfectionism whispers, “You’re not doing enough.”
Because our culture glorifies the woman who sacrifices everything.
I’ve lived those moments — skipping meals, pushing past exhaustion, swallowing emotions — because I felt there wasn’t time or space for me.
But the truth is: when I don’t tend to myself, I become depleted.
Resentful. Disconnected.
And that doesn’t serve anyone — not my child, not my partner, not my work.
We’re praised for “doing it all,” but it’s not sustainable. It’s not healthy. And our precious nervous systems are paying the price.
That therapy session cracked something open in me.
I realized: I struggle to hold space for others’ deep emotions when I’m not allowing myself to feel mine.
And that realization became an invitation —
To pause.
To cry.
To release the weight of carrying it all.
To nourish myself from the inside out — not just so I can show up for others, but because I matter, too.
This shift is slow. It’s imperfect. It’s layered.
But it is healing.
It is revolutionary.
Because how we mother ourselves becomes the model our children will one day carry forward.
So I ask you gently:
Let’s begin there.
Affirmation:
I am worthy of the tenderness I give so freely to others.
As I’ve deepened into this re-mothering journey, I’ve found comfort in creating small daily rituals — moments that help me soften and come back to myself.
I curated this ShopMy collection as a reflection of that:
A few of my favorite items to support your own rhythm of care, rest, and nourishment.
Here’s a peek at what’s inside:
→ Click here to explore the full edit
May it support you in coming home to yourself, too.