Why Mothers Need to Know Themselves Before They Can Support Everyone Else

For years, if someone had asked me what brought me joy, I would have answered without hesitation.

My children.

Family days out.

Snuggling on the sofa.

Reading stories together.

Watching them learn, grow and thrive.

And whilst all of those things are true, what I’ve come to understand is that they weren’t the whole answer.

Somewhere along the way, I had become so intertwined with caring for others that I had stopped noticing what brought joy to me as an individual.

Not as a mother.

Not as a partner.

Not as the person holding everything together.

Just me.

The reality is that motherhood is full of oxytocin.

We receive it through cuddles, breastfeeding, eye contact, connection, caring for our children and being close to the people we love. We are designed to find pleasure in nurturing and connection.

But there is a subtle difference between the oxytocin we receive through caring for others and the oxytocin we give ourselves.

Many of us never learn the second part.

I remember realising that choosing to read a book alone felt strangely uncomfortable. Part of me wanted to be sitting with the children instead.

Taking a bath whilst they watched a film felt indulgent, even though I knew I needed the quiet.

Sometimes I would choose the family activity over the thing my body was actually craving because somewhere deep down I had absorbed the message that being a good mother meant always choosing everyone else first.

What I didn’t realise was that I wasn’t actually abandoning myself in one dramatic moment.

I was slowly disappearing through hundreds of tiny decisions.

The challenge for women today is that we are so much to so many people.

We are mothers, partners, daughters, friends, employees, business owners, organisers, planners and emotional support systems. We spend so much time responding to other people’s needs that we can lose sight of our own.

To make things even more confusing, caring for others genuinely feels good.

Watching our children thrive brings immense satisfaction. Seeing our family happy gives us purpose. Achieving things for the people we love creates a powerful sense of reward.

There is nothing wrong with that.

But it can blur the lines.

Because if every source of joy is connected to someone else, what happens when you are asked a simple question:

“What brings you pleasure?”

Not your family.

Not your children.

Not your partner.

You.

For many women, there is a long silence before an answer comes.

And that isn’t because they don’t know themselves.

It’s because nobody ever taught them that knowing themselves was important.

The irony is that understanding ourselves is often the foundation for supporting everybody else.

When I work with families, I increasingly find that before we can make meaningful changes for children, we first need to help parents reconnect with themselves.

What regulates your nervous system?

What helps you feel grounded?

What makes you lose track of time?

What leaves you feeling restored rather than depleted?

What sparks joy when nobody else is involved?

These questions aren’t selfish.

They are essential.

Because our children regulate through us.

They learn from our relationship with ourselves.

They learn what rest looks like.

What boundaries look like.

What self-respect looks like.

What joy looks like.

When a parent understands what helps them feel calm, connected and regulated, the entire family benefits.

This isn’t about encouraging mothers to abandon responsibility or constantly prioritise themselves.

It’s about recognising that your wellbeing is not separate from your family’s wellbeing.

It is part of it.

Knowing yourself isn’t a luxury.

It’s the groundwork.

Because when you know what nourishes you, you can return to your family feeling more present, more regulated and more connected.

And perhaps the most surprising discovery of all is that many of us have spent years caring beautifully for everyone around us without ever taking the time to ask ourselves the same question:

“What do I need?”