Rebecca Foreman on Level 35 of the Shangri-La Sydney. Photo / Rebecca Foreman
Rebecca Foreman on Level 35 of the Shangri-La Sydney. Photo / Rebecca Foreman
Forget candles or flowers. This Mother’s Day, Rebecca Foreman gives herself the gift of a solo hotel stay and finds it’s the perfect present
Motherhood isn’t all packed lunches and cheerful school-gate waves. More often, it starts before sunrise with a cortisol spike from broken sleep. Coffee in hand, you’re unstacking the dishwasher, flipping an egg, loading the washing machine (praying it survives another cycle), squeezing in a rushed call across time zones. The lunchbox? Whatever lands between two slices of bread. And that’s just the start.
This Mother’s Day, I’m carving out something just for me: a solo escape to Sydney’s finest, where rest and reset take centre stage. The allure of hotel stays, no schedules, no responsibilities, the chance to surrender.
High above the harbour at the Shangri-La, I settle into a Harbour View Room on level 35. From the plush ‘love seat’, the city unfolds in cinematic beauty. Below ferries drift by, sunlight dances on the water, and the rhythm of Sydney hums below. As dusk settles, I’m dining at Altitude on three elegant courses paired with sweeping, golden-hour views.
Adina Apartment Hotel Sydney Town Hall. Photo / Rebecca Foreman
The following morning, I’m gazing out over the sweep of Sydney Harbour from my lofty perch. I’m struck by how motherhood has rarely felt this elevated, this clear. I’ve spent years in the trenches, deep in the day-to-day, never quite able to rise above the noise. But here, there’s a pause, a breath, a moment of perspective… at least until the next wave begins.
“This treatment will calm your nervous system,” the spa manager says, leading me in. How did she know that staying calm in chaos is the main ingredient of motherhood. As I sink into silk sheets, I think of all the things that chip away at our nerves. And my kids don’t even drive yet.
The Sodashi treatment delivers full-body restoration, followed by an infrared sauna just as I start to feel human again. I float back to my room so blissed out, I tap my credit card on the lift instead of my key.
The Shangri-La Spa. Photo / Supplied
There was a time when moments lingered, scents, silences, the softness of being. But motherhood rewrote that. Now, one ear always pricked, one eye scanning. You learn not to fully let go, not even in rest. It’s a quiet tragedy, this constant alertness. And yet, we adapt. We wind ourselves tight, push to the brink, proof that we’re all in.
My kids sit in the in-between, not quite grown, no longer small. They need me, then they don’t. The push and pull is constant, sometimes raw. My daughter is blooming into her boldest self: sharp, creative, unstoppable. I watch in awe, barely able to keep pace, feeling her shape me as much as I shaped her.
My energy feels rationed now. The hours shrink as demands multiply. I hover between wisdom and unravelling, a goddess with fraying robes and gaffa tape in hand, holding it all together. This is no gentle path. To mother, to daughter, to hold space for others, it builds you as it breaks you. A sacred undoing.
I once read that as oestrogen drops, so does the drive to give endlessly. That shift is biological, but also emotional. The caregiving instinct softens. In its place, something radical rises: the urge to care for ourselves.
By the time I check out, I feel I’ve seen myself.
If motherhood has taught me anything, it’s that holding onto even a thread of control, over time, energy, space, can be an act of quiet self-preservation. Staying at the newly refurbished Adina Apartment Hotel Sydney Town Hall feels like an offering to that part of me. The mother, navigating life on her own terms, carving out a moment to breathe. And by control, I mean choosing what to eat, when to rest, how to spend the day without needing to explain it to anyone.
Horizon Sydney Harbour Suite at Shangri-La Sydney. Photo / Shangri-La Sydney
From the circular window of my room, Sydney unfolds, Darling Harbour catching the light, the Kings Cross sign glowing in the distance, people moving like currents below. For a few days, this space becomes my sanctuary and a way to honour the maternal in me – not through giving, but through gently seeking what I need.
After waking in the dreamiest king-sized bed, I slip into the pool for a slow, sun-drenched start. Craving movement, release and city spa, I wander to Capella. A nourishing lunch at Aperture leads into a Fluidform session with Kirsten King, mum of three daughters, gentle and grounding. Her touch realigns more than just posture. We talk about motherhood, and I feel heard. Then it’s into Auriga Spa for a Rebalance Treatment, steam, sauna, and a bracing hit of ice. This is city wellness, sleek and intentional, just what I need.
Swimming Pool at Shangri-La Sydney. Photo / Shangri-La Sydney
That night, I think of my mum. A single mother who raised us with quiet love and fierce strength. She calls to ask how I’m really doing, perhaps the only one who genuinely wants to hear the truth. She’s fought cancer for three years, not just to survive, but to stay. For us. For me. So she can watch my kids grow. Because she knows I still need her.
The following day over coffee with myself, I decide how to spend the day – agency is the purest form of luxury.
Rebecca Foreman doing the Ultimate Summit climb. Photo / BridgeClimb Sydney
First up: BridgeClimb’s Ultimate Summit. Climbing across the world’s largest single span arch bridge feels like motherhood itself, equal parts grit, grace, relentless ascent and determined descent. Three hours later, I wander back to Adina Town Hall via the QVB, lured into the Tea Room on Level 3. High tea for one. Around me, life is marked in celebration, a hen’s party, a baby shower, a mother and daughter chatting over sweets. It’s a quiet moment to savour life’s layered sweetness.
On this Mother’s Day, the gift is presence, acknowledging the life I’ve created, the nurturing I’ve poured into others. But this year, I turned that energy inward. I celebrate the woman I’m becoming, honour my past, look forward to the future and, most of all, tend gently to the now.
