There’s something I’ve been teaching my children lately — not in a sit-down lesson, but in the way I live.
You are my everything.
But you are not my all.
I learned this in my early twenties, long before I had the language for it.
At twenty years old, I was caring for my late daughter, Sania, who had profound intellectual needs. She needed me deeply. Constantly. Fully. And I loved her with every part of myself. But loving her well required something I didn’t expect to learn so young: I couldn’t show up for someone who needed me so completely if I was abandoning myself in the process.
I had to care for me, too.
Back then, I had been taught that motherhood meant self-erasure. They devotion looked like depletion.That needing space meant you weren’t doing enough.
But I learned the difference between two kinds of selfishness.
There is a selfishness that harms — the kind that ignores real needs and turns away from responsibility.
And then there is a selfishness that helps — the kind that says, If I take a few minutes now, I can show up more present later.
That kind of care kept me going.
That kind of care helped me love her well.
Now, as a mother again, that lesson lives differently — but just as clearly.
I tell my children this, in ways both spoken and unspoken:
I am your mom.
And I am also Carmen.
I am a woman of integrity, kindness, and love.
A woman who loves tea and slow mornings.
A woman who needs time alone sometimes.
A woman who craves adventure, even if it’s just taking the long way home.
I am a woman with a deep relationship with God.
One who knows when she feels off balance.
One who isn’t afraid to say, “I’m not okay,” or “I got it wrong.”
Who I am outside of motherhood matters.
Because how else can I be the best version of myself inside of it?
So I’m teaching my children — gently, consistently — that loving deeply does not require disappearing. That caring for others doesn’t mean neglecting yourself. That you can belong to your family and still belong to yourself.
And if one day they choose to become parents, I want this to be their reality too.
You get to love deeply.
And still be whole.
You are my everything.
But I am my all.
And that is how I stay well enough to love you wonderfully.
Parenting with Care
Care is not perfection. It’s a practice.