As I cruise by, I spot her ponytail swaying with each determined stride. She steadies herself with one hand on the jogging stroller, pushing uphill while managing the weight of a cranky baby inside. I see the toddler, securely wrapped in a blanket, clutching a sippy cup that’s sure to be tossed out at least a dozen times during the run. The blend of determination and exhaustion on her face speaks volumes—she’s carved out this precious half-hour for herself, and I can’t help but admire her spirit.
I recognize her because I was once in her shoes. During my early years of motherhood, the monotony of naptime, endless laundry, and tantrums nearly drove me to my limits. My husband would help after work, but I often collapsed onto the couch, overwhelmed and weary, mindlessly watching TV until he gently suggested it was bedtime. Sleep was fleeting, and the cycle would repeat.
There was never a moment for self-care—no yoga classes to clear my mind, and chasing a toddler didn’t quite help with the extra weight or the C-section scars. In my late twenties, I felt worn out, often gasping for breath after a simple climb up the stairs or a playful outing at the park. Wasn’t this the role I had signed up for?
But a friend, sensing my struggles, insisted I join her for a run one warm summer evening. Reluctantly, I agreed, swayed by the promise of post-run wine. The experience was rough—I gasped for air, trailing behind my fitter friend, muttering curses under my breath. Yet, when we finished, she beamed and asked, “Wasn’t that invigorating?” I rolled my eyes, but as I stepped inside, I noticed my husband had managed the bedtime routine without me.
That summer, I made a conscious effort to prioritize my own well-being. I transformed into that mom with the ponytail as I jogged behind a stroller. I became the one who packed snacks, sippy cups, and hydration for both myself and my child. I learned to handle tantrums, lost toys, and the constant battle with traffic as I pushed my way through neighborhood streets.
Most importantly, I discovered that taking time for myself didn’t mean neglecting my family; it meant nurturing my own spirit.
So, as I drive past that mom in her vibrant running gear, cap firmly in place, I want her to know that I see her struggle. I notice the effort it took to dress her little one, to fasten him securely in the stroller while he protested for independence. I empathize with her as she tackles that first mile, where the stroller feels impossibly heavy, and I know there’s a moment when she might consider heading back home instead of pushing through.
I understand the thrill of a downhill slope, the relief of gravity assisting her as she navigates the path filled with obstacles. Mostly, I see her strength and resilience, and I can’t help but smile as I pass by. In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of her serene expression—it’s the unmistakable look of a badass mom, and she knows it.
If you’re exploring the journey of motherhood, I encourage you to check out resources like CDC’s pregnancy page for invaluable information. For those considering home insemination, articles on intracervical insemination can provide deeper insights, and Cryobaby’s home insemination kit is an excellent tool for your journey.
In summary, being a mom can be overwhelming, but taking time for yourself is essential. You can be both a dedicated parent and a person who prioritizes their own well-being. Embrace the challenges and celebrate the victories—because you truly are a badass.