The Exhaustion Before I Left

I spent time away from my kids for the first time this week.

It wasn’t for long—just two nights away in another city to attend a friend’s wedding. But in the lead-up, I was worn down to the bone. The day-to-day grind of parenting had been feeling unbearable. I found myself saying to my husband, “I’m sick of this. I honestly don’t want to do it anymore.”

Everything felt hard. My patience was thin. I was snapping at my two-year-old daughter constantly—for being a totally normal toddler. Talking too loudly, interrupting, snatching toys from her baby brother, playing too rough. It was all too much. My nervous system was fried.

I was burnt out, and I knew it.

The Ache of Separation

But as soon as I got to the airport, something shifted. A deep yearning took over. Even though I was craving time away from my kids, I missed them.

Even though I’d spent weeks dreaming of escape, I felt an ache in my chest. A hollow homesickness, not for a place, but for the tiny humans who drive me mad and light up my life.

Over those two days, every baby I saw made my heart squeeze. Each toddler giggle, every photo from my husband, every bedtime voice message from Gracie—I soaked it up with equal parts joy and longing. I missed them so much it hurt.

The Tenderness of Missing

At the wedding, I found myself cuddling other people’s babies just to feel close to mine. It hit me hard: no wonder people get nostalgic when their babies grow up. One day, I’ll be missing these days too—the ones I sometimes wish away.

On the plane ride home, a toddler giggled behind me as his dad tickled him. My whole body relaxed into that sound. That tiny moment reminded me—I get to witness this kind of joy every day.

How lucky am I?

Why It Hurts (and Heals) to Spend Time Away

There’s a beautiful paradox here. I was drowning in motherhood before I left—but being away reminded me why I love it so deeply.

From a psychological perspective, this is connected to attachment theory. When our emotional needs are stretched thin (hello, overstimulation), our secure bonds can feel strained. But a bit of healthy distance? That can actually reignite appreciation and restore emotional regulation. Absence really can make the heart grow fonder.

A Soft Reminder to Cherish

This trip was a wake-up call in the best way. The cliché is painfully true: the days are long, but the years are short. And this season I’m in—of sticky hands, snuggly naps, silly songs, and snotty cuddles—is already slipping through my fingers.

I won’t promise I’ll never complain again (I’m only human, and motherhood is still really bloody hard). But I will hold onto this feeling as long as I can: the heart-swell of missing, the gratitude of returning, and the deep truth that these are the good old days.

Maybe It’s Okay to Go

There’s one more thing this trip gave me—a reminder that time away from my kids is not only okay, but necessary.

I’ve always felt guilty stepping out, even for 30 minutes. But now I see it clearly: the mother sets the emotional tone of the household, and if I’m running on empty, I can’t pour into anyone else. My husband has always said, “Go—do what you need.” It’s time I start believing him.

Because when I come back from a walk, a trip, or even a quiet moment to myself, I come back more me. And that’s who my family really needs.