Every Tuesday, I go to a high-energy dance class that somehow manages to kick my butt and lift my mood at the same time.
But this particular Tuesday? I didn’t want to go.
It had been a long week. My body felt tired. My motivation was gone. So I casually told my girls I was thinking about skipping class.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how easy it is to start losing yourself in motherhood without even realizing it.
Immediately, they started hyping me up.
“You have to go. Your teacher is pregnant and she still shows up.”
“You always feel better after.”
“You made a commitment and we honor our commitments.”
Whew. That last one gutted me.
I say versions of these things to my girls all the time when they want to skip practice or back out of something they committed to. Not as some formal life lesson, but in ordinary conversations when I’m trying to shape the kind of women I hope they become.
After all of their commentary, I ended up attending class. I felt better at the end of class; sweaty and sore but better. Because I moved my body and because I honored my commitment.
Because in ten years, both of my girls will be gone and it’ll just be me and my husband again.
I don’t want to look up one day and realize I disappeared somewhere inside motherhood.
I think a lot of women fear losing themselves in motherhood while trying to do everything well.
Consistency in This Season
We live in an imperfect world where we don’t get an hour of gym time a day to ourselves anymore. At the beginning of this school year, I took an honest look at my schedule and tried to determine my capacity for discipline during this season of life. What could I actually commit to and follow through on for my physical fitness? Instead of beating myself up for not waking up at 5 a.m. to work out before the house woke up, I found a small commitment that worked with my schedule. I’m focusing on the consistency of moving my body at least once a week every week. In our busy season of life right now? That is enough. I’ve been in a cycle of chastising myself for not doing enough. It’s not that I’m undisciplined. I’m not lazy. It’s that this season of my life requires a lot from me as a mother (read about living in survival mode and see if it resonates).
The Women We’re Becoming
There’s a lot online right now about women in their late 30s trying to heal themselves while raising emotionally healthy children. I never fully saw myself in those conversations.
But lately, I think maybe I do.
Not because I’m perfectly patient or endlessly gentle, but because I’m intentional. I don’t want my girls to obey blindly, but I also don’t think motherhood means explaining every single decision like I’m negotiating with tiny terrorists.
I want them to understand that values matter. That discipline matters. That character is built in ordinary moments.
I want them to know that who they practice being every day is who they’re going to grow into becoming.
That became really clear when I wanted to skip my dance class.
My girls weren’t just repeating my words back to me. They were reflecting the values we’ve tried to build inside our home.
Not perfectly. Not constantly. But consistently enough that they knew exactly what kind of woman they expected me to be.
Before I had kids, I thought my career would be my “Mr. Holland’s Opus.” I poured everything into students, lesson plans, and shaping futures.
Now all of that ambition, intention, and emotional energy lives inside my home. Inside these girls I’m raising. Inside the woman I’m still becoming while I raise them.
Restoration Counts Too
Annoyingly, they were right. I spent an hour moving my body in a fun way that also built strength and made me smile. The women in that class are all carrying different seasons of motherhood, and somehow that alone feels restorative. It’s the conversations with those women that remind me motherhood is hard, and none of us are doing it alone. We shouldn’t feel guilty for the parts of ourselves we restore along the way. Showing up for myself in small ways feels like part of resisting losing yourself in motherhood entirely.
We started the season with twenty women in that class. Now there are maybe five of us left showing up consistently.
I’m one of them.
Not because I suddenly became wildly disciplined or found extra hours in the day. But because I’m finally understanding that consistency doesn’t have to look perfect to matter (learn more about developing a growth mindset).
Every Tuesday, I keep showing up.
For my health. For my joy.
And maybe most importantly, for the woman I’m still becoming long after they no longer need me to drive them to practice.
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