One of the most heartbreaking patterns I see in my cardiology practice is not medical—it's emotional. Especially in Persian and Jewish families, I meet extraordinary mothers who love their children so deeply that they slowly sacrifice their own joy, health, friendships, and identity. They believe that if their child is suffering, they too must suffer. They wear misery as proof of love. But the unintended consequence is devastating: the child doesn't just carry their own pain—they begin carrying the unbearable weight of believing they have destroyed their mother's life. Few burdens are heavier than a son or daughter thinking, "Because of me, my mother will never be happy again." That isn't love; it's guilt masquerading as devotion. Rabbi YY Jacobson puts it beautifully: "One suffering person doesn't help another suffering person. The greatest gift you can give your children is for them to know, 'Mommy is actually doing well. Mommy is enjoying life.' Empathy doesn't mean I become miserable. Empathy means I believe in your strength, I stand beside you, and I remind you that hope is still alive." That wisdom echoes the Torah. We are not called to become martyrs for those we love; we are called to become sources of light. The strongest mother is not the one who suffers the most, but the one whose joy gives her children permission to heal. Dance. Laugh. Take care of your health. Continue living fully. Your happiness does not diminish your love for your children—it may be one of the greatest gifts you ever give them.