Motherhood with Hashimoto’s: It Just Looked Different Than I Planned

My youngest daughter was in kindergarten when I underwent surgery to remove the faulty half of my thyroid, which led to my Hashimoto’s diagnosis. I’d been struggling with symptoms since she was in preschool, and some days it was really a challenge to take care of a rambunctious preschooler while dealing with exhaustion and brain fog. Years have passed, and that preschooler is now in her senior year. Through each of these years, I struggled to be the mom that I felt she needed. She wasn’t my only child navigating those changes with me, of course. My older children were growing up during those years too, and they also had to adjust as my health changed what I could do and how our family functioned. But because my youngest was still so little when this began, her childhood became the timeline by which I often measured what Hashimoto’s had changed. Mom life with Hashimoto’s is hard, no matter what stage of life you’re in.

When I initially began experiencing symptoms, I had no clue what was going on. I’d been sick for a few months, and as I recovered, some of the symptoms remained. The daily exhaustion and brain fog just never left. I have since learned that an illness can be a trigger for Hashimoto’s thyroiditis in those who have a genetic predisposition. I was one of those people, even though I had no clue.

I really wanted to get back to a normal life, and chasing a preschooler was part of that. As time passed, our “normal” life became different. Some days, we took naps together instead of her napping while I caught up on housework. We started having more movie time than before, and our long walks on our hillside or blackberry-picking adventures became less frequent. I didn’t notice the differences then, but looking back, I can see clearly that my parenting style had to change for me to get through the days.

Many times, through the years, I’ve dealt with guilt because I didn’t have the energy to be a “normal” mom. A seven-year-old doesn’t understand why so-and-so’s mom takes them to all the events and festivals, but her mom says, “I’m sorry, sweetie, I just can’t this weekend. Let’s do something else fun later this week.” Even playing at the park became her playing on the playground equipment, with Mom watching and pushing her on the swings here and there.

I tried to make sure we did fun activities regularly during her preschool and elementary years, even when I wasn’t feeling up to it. I didn’t want her to think she wasn’t a priority or that the plans we made weren't important. We would head to a nearby state park to hike for the day, play in the waterfalls, and just enjoy nature. Sometimes I planned seasonal things, like trips to a pumpkin patch; trick-or-treating was a must (although there were a few years when I just couldn’t make it). Day trips to a nearby tourist area and zoo trips became our treat days when I could muster the energy. Quiet days and weeks, with random fun events thrown in here and there when I could handle it, became our norm.

As time passed, the weight gain started. I had worked so hard to lose weight after having kids; it was frustrating. So, I dieted like crazy and added exercise to my weekly have-to-do list. I ignored the energy drain because don’t they say exercise increases energy? I just assumed the increased energy would kick in at some point. I started doing a dancing game on my gaming system. My daughter would join me most days, and it was fun for both of us. Neither dieting nor exercise helped me lose any weight. I actually started feeling much worse. Joint pain joined the party, and at that point, any active types of outings were just too challenging for me. The occasional hikes became a fond memory, and even zoo days had to look different. My guilt grew as my ability to be an active, fun parent disappeared, one symptom at a time.

“My guilt grew as my ability to be an active, fun parent disappeared, one symptom at a time.”

As my daughter moved on through middle school and into high school, our outings became movie and shopping days. We would go out to dinner or take little trips where I could spend more time resting and not walking for hours on end. My body just couldn’t do it. My lack of ability led to feelings of failure and depression. No matter what I researched and tried, the weight didn’t come off, and my joints hurt. I felt like my daughter’s childhood was slipping through my fingers as I watched from the sidelines.

Years passed, as they often do, and my weight climbed. High school came, and I sat uncomfortably on the bleachers for hours, watching my daughter play the violin at holiday and spring concerts. I truly didn’t care that I was uncomfortable; I would have been there every time, no matter what. The teen years, where we still are, are a special challenge for mothers, medical challenges or not. You want so badly to hold on to those early years when your child needed you for everything, while also wanting to watch them blossom and succeed in life. It’s a blessing and a curse.

During this time, I also became increasingly depressed and frustrated that my life was passing me by, and I didn’t feel like an active participant in it. I felt like a bad mom and hated the way my body limited the way in which I was able to be involved in my children’s lives. By this point in my journey, I had begun to avoid doctors, and I decided that I needed to find someone or something that would help me take my life back.

“I felt like my daughter’s childhood was slipping through my fingers as I watched from the sidelines.”

I began my quest for a healthier life, not just to lose weight, but to feel better. Of course, losing weight was an integral part of that process. I tried a few different programs, hoping to do it myself, and grew increasingly frustrated when they didn’t work. Eventually, I found something that worked for me. It’s been a long journey, years in the making, but I am now down just a few pounds shy of a hundred pounds. This has been the catalyst for me to be more engaged in my own life, and in my kids’ lives.

Halfway through the journey, we took a three-week-long old-school cross-country trip. We saw the Grand Canyon. No, I couldn’t do the hike into the canyon, maybe next time, but I was able to do good walks along the top of the canyon trails. We walked all over Las Vegas, the Hoover Dam, Disneyland, and Big Sur. I had my toes in both the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans that year. I felt better. My moods were better, and I felt like I was living life and making memories with my kids and husband. I started going to concerts with my girls. I could walk through the entire zoo without many issues, with just a well-timed break here and there. Unfortunately, around this time, the things I had been doing to lose weight just stopped working, and I regained about thirty pounds. Depression hit again, and this time I found a doctor to help me out. I didn't want to go back to feeling unable to participate with my kids or in my life.

A year ago, we took almost the entire family to Disney World. I had re-lost the thirty pounds and maybe a few more. Disney World was still a big challenge, but I was there with those I loved, and that was enough. The first day was brutal with all the walking and the standing. I didn’t want to limit the family, so I pushed myself to do everything my older daughter had planned. I paid for it the next day and had to skip a day at a park. I was still living with limitations, I realized, but I wasn't going to let them take away my time or my joy.

That trip, even with the breaks I needed to take here and there, still created some of the best memories of my life. I found that the kids were okay with me taking a break while they ran to get on another ride. They were even okay with me skipping a day for self-care. It didn’t make me a bad mom, but it showed them that sometimes you need to make yourself a priority, and that’s okay. I want them to take care of themselves, and if I don’t show them that it’s okay, how will they ever learn?

“We still made memories and had fun; it just looked different than how I had planned.”

Now, down almost a hundred pounds, I’m still a work in progress. I still have weight to lose and challenges to overcome. However, we take the trips and do the things. Looking back, I see that I wasn’t a bad mom; I was just a mom doing the best she could with the hand I’d been dealt. We still made memories and had fun; it just looked different than how I had planned. I also know my baby knows she had a mom who loved her every day. She was happy to have a mom who showed up, no matter what, when it mattered.

How has your vision of parenting changed since your diagnosis? Have you had to make adjustments, or are you exactly the parent you always thought you would be? Feel free to share your experience or ask questions in the comments below. Sometimes hearing someone else’s story can help us feel a little less alone.

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One step at a time.

One day at a time.

You're not walking this road alone.

With hope,

Chelle