Those who know me know that Sunday mornings are sacred. No, it is not because we go to church. It is because I go to Zumba. “So what?” you may ask.

Let me repeat: I go to Zumba. I — not my baby and I. I — not my husband, baby, and I.

I — alone — go to Zumba.

My Sunday morning Zumba class has been important to me since long before I had my baby, but it reached life-preserving status six weeks after I delivered her. I remember the feeling when I went back into my class, feeling like I was climbing out of a dark tunnel into the light (or out of a Boston winter into spring).

Zumba is one way that I ensure I get at least some physical fitness in my week. Working full time, raising a toddler, and trying to keep my home life somewhat together — that’s hard to do. My Zumba class reminds me I am more than that. When I go to class, I see the same women every week. We are not close buddies, but we have an interest in each other’s lives. I ask Danielle how her daughter is liking college, she asks me how the baby is. Samantha notices when I’m not there.

During Zumba, I’m not a mom. I am mastering dance moves. I am moving and twisting and shaking. I am a Latin dance superstar. OK, not really. But, my goodness, it feels good. During that hour, I am not focused on poopy diapers or what my baby will have for dinner or when the house is going to get vacuumed. I am focusing on nailing that cumbia choreography.

And, while I am having my time, my husband and baby are having even more valuable time — their daddy/daughter time. When the weather is nice, they go for a walk, or they’re in a music class. The people at the local coffee shop know him by name and have watched my daughter grow. As she gets older, the two of them will continue this tradition. The form it takes may change, but, no matter what, she will know that her Daddy sets aside a special part of his week just for her.

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Sometimes a Zumba class is just a Zumba class. But sometimes it is so much more.

Maybe for you it’s not Zumba — maybe it’s a book club, an art class, or rock climbing. We need to recognize that new moms, in particular, need an outlet to express themselves as someone other than mom. Do it for yourself — you’re worth it.