How My Kids Saved Me When I Couldn’t Save Myself

There were days I didn’t think I’d make it. Days when I stared at the ceiling, too numb to cry, too exhausted to care. I was drowning under the weight of loss, grief, and fear, and no matter how hard I tried to pull myself up, I kept slipping further down. I thought I had nothing left. No fight. No strength. No reason to keep going.

But then, I’d hear their voices. Voices I know as well as I know my own, filled with innocence and hope. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” “Mommy, can you play with me?” “Mommy, don’t cry.”

And suddenly, I had a reason.

Motherhood Anchored Me
When everything else fell apart—when I felt like a shell of myself, hollowed out by grief and fear—motherhood grounded me. It tethered me to something bigger than my pain. My kids needed me, and in needing me, they saved me.

There were mornings I didn’t want to get out of bed, but I had to because little (and not so little) feet were already padding down the hall, asking for breakfast. There were nights when I craved sleep more than anything else in the world, but I stayed up anyway to rub backs, chase away nightmares, and whisper reassurances I barely believed myself.

My children didn’t know they were saving me. They didn’t know that every laugh, every hug, every call of “Mom!” was pulling me back to life. But they were.

Fighting for Them Meant Fighting for Me
I’ll never forget the night everything changed. My body was bruised, my spirit shattered, and I had all but given up. But when I saw the fear in their eyes—when I realized they were depending on me to protect them—I found a strength I didn’t know I had.

That night, I stopped surviving for myself and started surviving for them. And somewhere in that fight, I started saving myself too.

Because motherhood wasn’t just about keeping them safe—it was about showing them what strength looked like. It was about proving to them (and to myself) that we deserved better. That we deserved peace, safety, and happiness. And I wasn’t going to stop until we had it.

They Reminded Me Who I Am
In the months that followed, I began to heal. Slowly, painfully, and imperfectly—but I healed. And every step of the way, my kids were there, cheering me on without even realizing it.

They reminded me what joy felt like—chasing each other in the yard, dancing in the kitchen, laughing on the couch uncontrollably for the first time in years, playing cards at the dining room table and yelling at each other for cheating. They reminded me what love felt like—pure, unconditional, and unshakable. And they reminded me who I am—not just their mom, but a woman who is worthy of love, respect, and happiness.

Motherhood Saved Me, But I Saved Myself Too
My kids gave me purpose when I couldn’t find it for myself. They gave me strength when I felt weak. But in the end, it was up to me to stand up, to fight, and to rebuild a life for us.

Motherhood didn’t just save me—it transformed me. It taught me that love is stronger than fear, that courage can rise from brokenness, and that even in our darkest moments, we can choose to keep going.

So if you’re reading this and you feel like you can’t keep going, I want you to know this: you can. And you will. Whether it’s for your kids, for yourself, or for the life you haven’t built yet—you will rise. And when you do, you’ll realize that you were never as broken as you thought.

You were always stronger than you knew.

This blog post is part of my journey to reclaiming my power. If it resonated with you, I invite you to read more, follow me on social media and subscribe to my email list to be the first to find out about everything up and coming with The Better Ex-Wife . Here to help you dive deeper into healing, growth, and thriving unapologetically.