My daughters didn't need a martyr. They needed a mom.

• When I was a new mom, I tried to do it all. I tried to do even more when I became a single mom.
• I eventually learned that motherhood shouldn't lead to burnout.
• Prioritizing my own well-being improved my relationship with my daughters over time.

We were getting comfortable in our seats when the flight attendant started her safety speech. It was the first time I'd flown with my infant daughter, so I listened closer than usual, and one thing caught me by surprise.

"Parents and caregivers, please remember to put your mask on first before helping your child."

It made sense, but also surprised me. Without the warning, I probably would've done the opposite. As a new mom, I took it for granted that being a good mom meant sacrificing everything for my kids.

I thought I was showing love

When we returned from our trip, I immediately started planning my daughter's first birthday party — an elaborate celebration with homemade flower cookies "planted" in tiny terracotta pots, new outfits for both of us, and custom-printed invitations to dozens of friends and family. By the time the big day arrived, I was so exhausted after staying up half the night frosting those damn cookies, I was cranky and just wanted to take a long nap. Not the vibe I was hoping for!

At the time, it didn't occur to me that my daughter was too young to care or even know that it was her birthday, and we probably would have been happier spending the day hanging out alone or with a few close friends in a low-key environment that didn't add to the pressure and workload I was already facing as the mom of a toddler and full-time writer for a public relations firm.

Rather than abandon this mindset after becoming a single mom, I doubled down — sewing costumes from scratch, perfecting my fruity upside-down cakes, and hot gluing hundreds of fake flowers, one by one, onto a 3-foot-tall poster board cutout of the number 16 for my daughter's birthday. It was exhausting. I genuinely felt I was doing it out of love, and that this was what good moms did. I didn't understand that it was really about approval, control, and a sense of self-worth that I hadn't learned how to give myself.

I realized I wasn't setting a good example for my girls

It wasn't until my girls were in their teens and I started envisioning them as adults that I began to see how harmful this model was, not just to me but to them. I realized that I was unintentionally teaching them that motherhood requires burnout, self-erasure, and constant pressure to perform. That being needed mattered more than being content, and that love was something you proved by running yourself into the ground.

That wasn't the future I hoped for them or the example I wanted to set.

It wasn't easy turning that ship around. Setting boundaries and modeling self-respect sometimes means disappointing others, including my kids, and that was deeply uncomfortable for me. It meant sitting with guilt and resisting the urge to overfunction just to feel like I was doing enough.

It also meant lowering my expectations and remembering that every milestone or special event doesn't need to be an extravagant, picture-perfect performance. Every meal doesn't need to be made from scratch. Every problem doesn't need to be solved by me, and I don't need to do it all.

The shift changed the tone of our relationship

Slowing down made me a calmer, more present parent. I stopped rushing to fix everything or prove my devotion through exhaustion, and instead learned how to listen without immediately responding. I became less reactive, more available, and more willing to tolerate discomfort — mine and theirs.

The shift changed the tone of our relationship over time. Now that they're in their 20s, our relationship feels easier, less about what I do for them and more about how we show up for each other.

I still think about that flight attendant sometimes, how she matter-of-factly delivered a message that felt almost radical to me at the time. Put your own mask on first, because you're no help to anyone if you can't breathe.