The Ultimate Sacrifice
When Sacrificing for Love Feels Like Losing Yourself
There are moments in life when we make sacrifices for love—quiet, painful ones that no one else sees. We bend. We give. We convince ourselves it’s worth it. And I’ll be real with you—I’m someone who naturally puts other people’s needs before my own, especially the ones I love.
My relationship isn’t perfect. My partner isn’t perfect. But I made a mental commitment to him. I told myself, this is it. I’m staying. I’m doing the work. I’m not walking away.
But deciding to have baby number four? That felt like the deepest sacrifice of my life.
I was already stretched thin. I had three kids—my oldest son, and two little girls who demanded every ounce of me. My husband was a lot of work. And honestly? So was the damn dog. Life felt full—chaotic, exhausting, overflowing. And then came the conversation about another baby.
I won’t lie—I had already told Tony, before we even started having kids, that I might be open to a third if we ended up with two girls. But the reality was different. My mental health was in a fragile place. I was living with depression. I was barely keeping my head above water. And the thought of bringing another baby into the mix felt… impossible.
I felt like I was giving up everything that filled me:
- My dreams
- My freedom
- Travel, adventures, and memory-making moments
- The simple joy of doing things that make me feel alive
I kept thinking: If we have another baby, will I have to give up vacations? Will I stop being able to afford the little things that bring me joy? Will the girls have to miss out on activities? Will life become even more chaotic, even more unmanageable?
People say kids are a blessing—and they are. But it’s okay to admit that the reality of parenting is heavy. It’s okay to grieve the parts of you that feel like they’re slipping away in the process. Because all those “extras” in life—the travel, the experiences, the moments where I feel like me—those things fill my cup. And suddenly, with baby number four on the horizon, everything I love felt unreachable. Out of reach. Like I was trading my identity for someone else’s dream.
And maybe that’s what no one talks about—the silent ache of choosing love over self, and wondering how long you can keep sacrificing before you lose yourself completely.
