Becoming a Mother Is Freeing Me from Cycles of Abuse

Becoming a mother has changed my life in ways I cannot begin to describe. My baby has taught me that understanding, knowledge, love, and compassion do not mean hurting myself to help others.

For much of my life, I put everyone's needs before my own, even when it meant that I would be physically or mentally unwell as a result. From a young age, I was taught, explicitly and implicitly, that my worth was measured by what I could give. My parents relied on me emotionally, financially, and practically in ways no child should ever be expected to bear.

As an adult, those expectations only intensified. Requests for help were often framed as obligations, and boundaries were treated as betrayals. Guilt was a constant companion.

Throughout the nearly three years I have been married, my husband has tried to teach me to put myself first, reminding me that to save someone on a plane, one must put their oxygen mask on first. As the Talmud teaches, your life comes first.

I couldn't do it. The patterns of childhood run deep.

Even when I was struggling financially, I believed it was my obligation to give. I sent money I could not afford, even at the expense of my own basic needs. Love was entangled with sacrifice, and sacrifice with fear. I mistook enabling for honoring.

It took me some time but I finally learned that according to Jewish law, I do not have to put our family in financial or emotional jeopardy to fulfill my obligation of honoring my parents. I realized that my parents taught me a skewed, distorted view of honoring your parents for their benefit.

Motherhood has not erased the challenges of my past. If anything, it has brought them into sharper focus. As I held my son for the first time, I understood with absolute clarity that my responsibility was no longer to old patterns, old guilt, or old wounds. My responsibility is to myself, to him, to my husband, and to the home we are building together.

My son, in his innocence, has taught me what years of struggle could not fully teach me: that love does not require self-harm. That compassion must include oneself. That boundaries are not cruelty but kindness.

Through him, I have found the strength to stop allowing myself to be abused. Through him, I have come to understand that the greatest gift I can give my child is a mother who is healthy, strong, and whole.

Despite her battles, my mother told me repeatedly that I could do anything. She taught me the love of Judaism, the love of music, and the importance of kindness. She also, without intending to, taught me to accept behaviors that should never have been acceptable. I carry both truths with me.

With Mother's Day approaching, I am flooded with vivid memories of her. And I choose to focus on the memories of her singing to me Jewish lullabies and melodies, lulling me to sleep, the times of joy and laughter.

Today, I sing those same melodies to my son, overwhelmed with gratitude. God has blessed me beyond measure.