My partner, John, returned home recently, excitedly sharing about a case he’s working on, where the Ninth Circuit approved his client’s petition for a rehearing. This means he’ll be heading to San Francisco to argue before eleven judges, a thrilling opportunity indeed. Then he turned to me and asked about my day. “Oh, it was quite productive,” I replied. “I managed to do three loads of laundry, took our son Max to speech therapy, baked some cookies, and gave our little one a bath…”
Lately, I’ve been feeling increasingly overwhelmed by the routine of my days—the monotony, the sheer triviality, the relentless drudgery. I know I’m not supposed to express these sentiments, right? As a stay-at-home mom, the narrative is that I should be gushing about the joys of my life as a homemaker, showcasing the magic of motherhood through my blog (if that’s what I even am).
However, the truth is that I’ve been feeling less like a mother and more like a servant. Everyone in this household seems to have needs, and most of the time, they’re not satisfied with what I provide. I find myself in a role of service, listening attentively to others, yet feeling unheard.
Do I come across as bitter? Perhaps I do.
On one hand, I genuinely appreciate the opportunity to raise my children at home. I recognize that many don’t have this luxury, and there was a time when I couldn’t afford to stay home either. Yet, I find myself questioning the choices I’ve made; I wonder if they were truly the best ones.
Recently, I read Jessica Valenti’s book, Why Have Kids. I couldn’t put it down, though it left me feeling both angry and depressed. The central argument of the book is that motherhood isn’t the glorified experience society often portrays. Can I get an Amen? It’s not. Yes, there are fleeting moments of joy, but they are rare enough to stand out. Most days feel thankless. I suppose the real rewards come when our children grow up to become contributing members of society. But let’s face it: if they turn out to be problematic, how much blame do we shoulder for that?
Valenti also contends that society has deceived women into believing that motherhood is the most vital job out there, perpetuated by a paternalistic system that seeks to keep women at home while men continue to dominate the workforce. This perspective resonates with me, especially as I reflect on how the push for breastfeeding can feel like a way to tether women to domestic duties, limiting their autonomy. While I’ve always advocated for breastfeeding, it’s worth noting that formula was introduced partly to empower women by expanding their choices. Yet, breastfeeding in public can still be challenging, particularly in the workplace.
Is motherhood truly the most significant role one can undertake? It’s akin to saying, “Keeping this house I built is the most important job in the world.” I chose to have these children; it’s not like I’m performing a service for society. Sure, maybe one of my children will grow up to make a remarkable contribution, and in that sense, I would feel proud. However, the reality is that most kids will lead ordinary lives without leaving a substantial impact beyond their immediate circles.
And honestly, is laundry the pinnacle of my capabilities? Am I impressing anyone with my baby-bathing prowess? Motherhood doesn’t exactly showcase my strengths; rather, it highlights my shortcomings.
These thoughts have been swirling in my mind for quite a while. Writing about them feels risky, as it may come off as ungrateful or unloving. But I do love my kids; they are my entire world. And therein lies the challenge: my identity has become so intertwined with motherhood that I hardly recognize myself anymore. I am a mother, a caregiver, and beyond that, I feel lost.
I wonder if I should have had fewer children or continued working, even part-time. I’ve become entirely financially dependent on my partner, which was something I vowed never to do after my first marriage ended. I sacrificed my career and earning potential, and now, with a decade out of the workforce, I face a daunting reality—by the time my youngest enters school, I’ll be in my 50s and likely unqualified for jobs that pay what I once earned. The what-ifs haunt me.
Beyond financial concerns, what message am I sending my daughters about independence? I fear I might not be the role model they need. Perhaps if I weren’t so available to everyone all the time, I’d be appreciated more.
The truth is, it’s a myth that women can have it all. We cannot. Choosing to stay home often means sacrificing independence and financial stability, while working outside the home involves an exhausting juggling act with little support.
So here I am, feeling trapped. Surely, I can’t be the only one…
For more insights on motherhood and the challenges of parenting, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination. And if you’re curious about the process of at-home insemination, visit this link for a comprehensive guide. Another great resource is this exciting partnership with the LGBT Mummies Tribe, who bring valuable insights to the conversation.
Summary
This article explores the complexities and challenges of motherhood, highlighting the sacrifices women make when they choose to stay home. It reflects on societal expectations and the reality of parenting, questioning the notion that women can truly “have it all.” The author grapples with identity loss and the implications of her choices, ultimately revealing a deep-seated frustration with the myth of perfect motherhood.