Issue #10: The Martyrdom I Once Wore Proudly No Longer Fits

Letting go of old beliefs to make room for who I am becoming

My 30th birthday. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

Almost nine years ago, when I delivered my daughter, I stepped into motherhood with the belief that spending more time with her was always better. I actually thought it was best for both of us. I didn’t give much thought to how it felt for me, because from that moment on, I believed it wasn’t really about me anymore. It was all about her.

That belief stayed with me through the foggy newborn days and the chaos of toddlerhood. Through miscarriages, a second pregnancy, and eventually, the birth of my son. No matter what was happening in my own world, physically, mentally, emotionally, I held tightly to the idea that every ounce of me belonged to my children.

And honestly, I didn’t resent it. I always wanted to be a mom. I chose it. It felt aligned with everything I had seen and everything I knew.

Some context: I grew up in the South, where it was the norm for moms to spend their days caring for their kids. It’s what I saw in my neighborhood, at school, and most of all, in my own home. My mom gave all of herself to me and my sister—driving us to school, picking us up, taking us to ballet class, volunteering in our classrooms. The list goes on. She made it look seamless, like being everything to everyone was simply what mothers did. And as a child, I loved it. So naturally, I assumed I’d be that kind of mom, too.

And when you have your first child at 26 (with just a few years of being in the “real world” under your belt) it doesn’t really feel like you’re giving something up. It felt like the next natural step, a path I was ready to follow.

I felt right at home in my new role. I truly loved it. I loved nursing my babies well past a year. I loved being the one to take them to every pediatrician appointment, to stay home caring for them when they were sick. I loved the rhythm of their routine, the homemade baby food, the carefully chosen preschool tours. The list went on and on and on.

I loved all of it.

Until, admittedly, I didn’t.

It was like someone flipped a light switch. Not all at once, but enough for me to notice.

Somewhere along the way—between the long nights and a global pandemic that stretched every limit—I realized I had been moving through life in a daze. Living in service exclusively to my family. Arms full. One foot in front of the other. Head down. Happy to be there, yes, but also craving more for myself. The identity of the selfless, all-sacrificing mother I once wore so proudly no longer fit.

Minni’s Book Club class is my favorite little ritual to kick off my Fridays.

As my son entered his final year of preschool and was now in school five mornings a week, I slowly started to dip my toe into the pool of self-exploration. Who am I if I’m not exclusively someone’s mom? I wasn’t sure, but I was curious to find out.

That fall, I got my bearings. And in December, I reached out to Minni, our neighborhood children’s art studio, to see if they would be open to having me assistant teach one morning a week. With a background in the arts and a deep love for a place I’d long brought my kids, Minni always felt like a natural fit. Shifting from the mom with a little one in tow to the one leading the class felt energizing.

I’ll never forget crossing The Common to pick up my son after that first morning making art with my toddler class. I kept thinking, ‘So this is what it feels like—to give even just a small part of yourself to another part of you’. A part that’s still very much there, even if it’s been buried beneath years of caregiving and devotion.

With a spring in my step and a grin stretching across my face, I felt a spark of joy, of curiosity, a hunger for more.

For the first time, the idea of putting on my own oxygen mask before helping others actually made sense. It felt like a new kind of mothering—a way of showing up that I didn’t just hear about but was finally beginning to live. One where I took up space. Where I acknowledged my own needs and gave myself permission to meet them. A version of motherhood that no longer confused me, but finally began to resonate.

I didn’t need to lose myself to be a good mother.

I just needed to let her evolve. Slowly, the color began to return to my world. I started making space, for myself, for my needs, in this new season of motherhood, at Minni and beyond.

It’s still a work in progress. I am still a work in progress. Just as my children move through their seasons, so will I. But for now, I’ve laid down the cape of motherhood martyrdom and stepped into something new—a uniform that feels more like…Amelia. My children are still at the center, yes, but now they’re part of a much larger, fuller, more colorful picture.

As my core role model of what it means to be a caring mother, I was eager to hear my mom, Donna’s reflections on those early years of raising her daughters, and to learn more about her own journey of self-discovery now that her girls are grown and out of the nest.

As a younger mother, I truly enjoyed our mornings before the carpool ride to school. During the drive, we always listened to the same early morning radio show on 97.3 KISSFM. Before podcasts and Substack conversations, these DJs felt like old friends. We got to know their voices, their stories, their playful banter. They cracked jokes, asked trivia questions, and brought a little joy to our routine.

One morning, the station announced a contest: listeners could submit a photo of themselves enjoying the morning show in their car. So we entered, just a simple photo snapped during our drive. I’m pretty sure we were the only ones who entered the contest…because we won! The grand prize was a live broadcast of the radio show—from our home!

Meanwhile, during the school week, my husband was doing his own version of a morning show—bantering with friends while working out at the YMCA. After a shower at the gym, he’d head straight to work. His morning routine anchored him so he could run our family business. And that business, in turn, anchored me, giving me the space to be the one at home in the mornings, driving our carpool, tuning in to the radio.

So there I was (the only adult at home) welcoming a full-blown radio station into our living room at 6:30 in the morning. It was chaotic, surreal, and hilarious.

Just like parenting and grandparenting, you learn by doing.

Experiential learning has always been part of my life, not just for the skills, but for the self-discovery it invites. I’ve long embraced the phrase “traditional with a twist,” and with each season, that twist takes on a new shape. Somehow, with every new beginning, I meet a new version of myself.

In this decade of my 60s, I found myself drawn to a springtime plein air art class, painting outdoors in the beauty of my beloved city of Savannah. What a gift to paint surrounded by blooming azaleas and stoic live oaks. Nature is our studio.

Oil paints have a texture all their own. I learned that to build depth and richness on the canvas, you begin with a thin layer, like tea. The next stage has the consistency of milk, and finally, you finish with the thickness of honey.

My “tea” stage looked more like milk, and my “milk” had the heft of honey. I’ve come to embrace that I may just live in the honey stage—and there’s something beautiful about that. Slower, richer, and full of depth.

During my painting class, I also learned the term alla prima—Italian for “at first attempt.” It reminded me that sometimes, the first try is the most honest one. I even found myself breaking rules, adding collage to one of my pieces, leaning into that twist I’ve always loved.

This weekly practice has given me more than painting, it’s opened a door to myself. I’ve loved the creative challenge, the community of old and new friends, and the gentle reminder that I’m still evolving.

Thank you, Mom, for sharing so openly and beautifully. Your words mean so much.

My greatest hope is that one day, my kids will look back on their childhood with the same warmth and gratitude I feel when I think of mine.

Rose:

Amelia - My Rose this week was, hands down, the Dr. Becky book tour event at Minni. A true pinch me moment, both personally and professionally.

I started following her in early 2020, when her platform was still small—but her words deeply resonated, especially as she guided families through the complexities of parenting during the pandemic.

When she walked into the studio and said, “The work you’re doing is so important,” I assumed she meant as a mom. But then I realized, she saw me as a teacher. And somehow, that felt even more powerful.

Liz - I headed into Boston on Tuesday with my littlest in tow for a special event at Amelia’s Minni art studio with the one and only Dr. Becky! It was crazy and colorful, and absolutely wonderful to connect with this woman in person, someone who is a guiding force in my parenting journey. We also enjoyed Beacon Hill Books, Tatte, and perhaps my three year old’s favorite part of the day, we watched chickadees find crumbs on the sidewalk ha :) (Amelia : I looooooved having you two in the studio! It was such a joy to combine one of my favorite people with one of my favorite places. Truly the best kind of day!)

Thorn:

Amelia - Hmmm. I don’t think I have a Thorn this week and I’m more than happy to take that as a win!

Liz - My husband got hit with a horrible stomach bug earlier this week - when sickness hits the family, no matter who it is, it throws us all for a loop :(

Bud:

Amelia - My kids have the day off from school this coming Monday, so we’re heading down to Savannah for a belated Passover Seder with my family. We’re all looking forward to a weekend of sunshine and soaking in the slower pace together.

Liz - We kick off our spring break this weekend, and we have some fun surprises up our sleeves for our boys, starting with visiting friends in NY for Easter and ending with my oldest’s birthday celebrations next weekend. Super busy, super exciting!

** If you enjoyed Amelia’s essay, tapping the heart below is a simple (and free!) way to show your support for our work and help others discover our newsletter. And if someone in your life might appreciate it, we’d be so grateful if you passed it along by clicking “share” below.