Mothering the mother

Caring for ourselves with the same tenderness we give others

Jun 30, 2025

A mother—and a caregiver—is so good at taking care of others.
We comfort. We feed. We cheer. We soothe.
We are the solid pillars others lean on.

We make sure that, no matter what, we are there to support.

But why do we not offer that same love and attention to ourselves?

We need it just as much as our loved ones do.
In fact, we need it the most—so that we are not pouring from an empty cup.
Because no one, not even the people we love most, benefits from what’s left at the bottom of our depletion.

The Invisible Work of Caregiving

I had a moment of realization recently.
On my busy Tuesday clinics, I often don’t have time for a drink—let alone lunch. I dash through the morning chaos of getting the kids ready for school, dive straight into back-to-back appointments, and somehow it’s 6 p.m. before I even pause to exhale.

One day, I thought: If one of my children were working this way, I would be horrified.
Why don’t I extend the same care and compassion toward myself?

So I started to take a lunch break. Sometimes it’s only ten minutes, but it has shifted my energy. It’s a small signal to myself: I matter too.

At home, the pattern was different but familiar. My children would drag their feet at bedtime, and by the time they were finally settled, I’d have no time left to decompress—just a straight collapse into bed.

So I tried something new. I told them that if they weren’t in bed by 8:30, we wouldn’t have our cuddle time—a ritual they love. I explained that Mama needs some quiet time at the end of the day too. Not as a punishment, but as a way for all of us to recharge.

Surprisingly, they understood. They’ve started getting ready on time. And I’ve been able to have a few moments to myself to decompress, and reflect on my day.
A small but massively important act of self care.

Mindfulness as Reclamation

Mindfulness, to me, isn’t just about meditation or breathing techniques.
It’s about returning—again and again—to myself.

It’s the soft awareness that reminds me to ask: What is it that I need?
So often, we don’t even allow ourselves the space to ask that question.
We’re not consciously aware of what our needs are, because we’re so busy—without breaks—putting everyone else’s needs ahead of our own.

Mindfulness is how we mother the mother.
How we care for the caregiver.

It doesn’t need to be dramatic or time-consuming. Sometimes, it looks like:

Sitting in the car for two minutes before walking inside, letting the breath settle.
Saying, “I deserve rest,” when guilt starts to creep in.
Holding your own hand after a hard day and acknowledging, “I did my best.”

These are small acts. But they create a big shift in how you begin to care for yourself.

The Science Supports What We Know

As caregivers, we often worry that taking time for ourselves means taking away from our children or loved ones. But the research shows the opposite is true.

In caregivers—including parents, healthcare workers, and family members tending to loved ones—mindfulness has been shown to:

Reduce stress and emotional exhaustion.
Mindfulness-based interventions significantly reduce caregiver burden, stress, anxiety, and depression in both professional and informal caregivers.
Improve emotional regulation and resilience.
Mindfulness practices enhance activity in the prefrontal cortex—associated with emotional regulation—while calming the amygdala, the brain’s fear center. This neural shift supports a more balanced response to stress.
Protect against compassion fatigue.
Clinicians who participated in a mindfulness and communication program experienced significant reductions in burnout and emotional exhaustion.
Enhance immune and physiological health.
Research shows that mindfulness lowers cortisol (the stress hormone), improves sleep, and reduces inflammatory markers such as CRP and IL-6.

The research tells us that caring for ouselves is caring for others.
That presence is powerful. And that presence is only possible when we pause to refill, restore, and remember our own humanity.

A Gentle Invitation

So this week, I invite you to step back and ask yourself:

What do I need? And how can I lovingly make space to meet that need?

With care and calm,
Punam