By Savannah West, as told to Newsweek
When I tell people I leave my toddler with her grandma for six weeks at a time—and use that time to travel, rest and take child-free vacations—the reactions are exactly what you might expect.
Some people tell me I’m lucky. Others say they wish they had the same support. And then there are those who think I’m doing something wrong—that I’m a bad mom, or that my daughter will resent me.
I’ve heard it all. And honestly? I don’t agree.
The truth is, this arrangement was never even my idea.
My mom, Ruth-Anne, is the one who showed me that taking a break as a parent isn’t selfish—it can actually be good for everyone.
I live in Atlanta, while my parents are in Phoenix. Since my daughter Cassidy was born in November 2022, her dad and I have largely been doing it on our own.
My mom hated being so far away and not being able to help with day-to-day life, so when Cassidy was about a year and a half old, she started finding ways to make it work.
At first, she would fly to Atlanta to pick Cassidy up—or buy me a ticket so I could bring her to Phoenix myself. What began as a two-week visit slowly grew. Then it became a month. Now, we’re up to six weeks.
And it’s not just a one-off. It’s become part of our rhythm as a family.
Earlier this year, Cassidy was with my mom from mid-January through early March. My mom asked for that time, paid for the flights and encouraged me to bring her and leave her there. So I did.
During those weeks, her dad and I use the time to work, reset and reconnect. We go on dates. We catch up on life. And yes, I’ve taken multiple vacations on my own.
When I come back, I feel something I think a lot of parents don’t get to feel often enough: rested.
Not just a little refreshed—but genuinely, deeply, almost unbelievably well-rested.
I love being Cassidy’s mom. But I’ve only been a mom for three years. I was just me—Savannah—for 26 years before she was born, and I loved that person. I loved my independence, my work, my life.
Those parts of me didn’t disappear when I became a mother—and I don’t think they’re supposed to.
Having time away reminds me of that. It brings me back to myself, and I come home feeling like a better version of the mom I want to be.
People often ask me how my mom feels about it. The answer is simple—she loves it.
When I asked her to explain it in her own words, she told me it feels like a blessing. Not just because Cassidy is her first grandchild, but because she’s my only daughter’s child.
“She is a total replica of you in every way,” my mom said. “It’s like getting to spend time with you all over again, now that I’m older and I have more to give.”
That perspective means everything to me and Cassidy loves it too.
We FaceTime every day while she’s away, so when I arrive to pick her up, there’s no distance between us. She runs straight into my arms, excited and full of stories. She wants to show me everything she’s learned, everything she’s seen.
Those reunions are some of my favorite moments in the world.
Of course, not everyone sees it that way.
Among my friends, the response is overwhelmingly positive. Most of them tell me I deserve the break—especially since I’m one of the only moms in our group. They’re just happy to have me back for spontaneous nights out and uninterrupted conversations.
My family reminds me how fortunate I am to have a supportive mom. And they’re right—I don’t take that for granted.
Online, the reaction is more mixed. A lot of people say, “I wish I had a village like that,” or share that they’ve done something similar with their own kids.
Some tell me their parents did the same for them growing up—and that those relationships with grandparents became incredibly meaningful.
And then there are the critics.
I’ve been told I’m abandoning my child. That she’ll grow up resenting me. That I’m putting myself before her.
I won’t pretend those comments don’t exist, but I also don’t carry them with me. They don’t reflect my reality, and they don’t reflect my daughter’s experience.
The standard we’ve set for mothers is impossible. We’re expected to be everything, all at once—completely devoted, endlessly patient, professionally successful, emotionally present and somehow still whole individuals.
There’s no version of motherhood that earns universal approval, so I’ve stopped trying.
What I believe now is this: choosing yourself is not the same as abandoning your child. Letting your village show up is not the same as checking out.
My daughter is being raised by a mother who still has ambitions, friendships and a full life outside of parenting. She sees me getting dressed for work and she beams. She’s growing up watching a woman who hasn’t disappeared—and I think that matters.
At the same time, she’s building a deep, loving relationship with her grandmother, who is pouring time, wisdom and attention into her in a way I simply can’t replicate on my own.
That’s not deprivation. That’s a village working the way it’s supposed to.
Choosing yourself during motherhood can feel radical—but only because we’ve been taught for so long that it is.
I don’t believe that anymore. I believe you can love your child fiercely and still choose yourself. And I’m standing by that.
All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
Savannah West, 29, is a design and lifestyle editor, and founder of Studio 48.
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