On a recent hunt for the right Mother’s Day card, one of us rifled through dozens that lined the store shelf. The words were sweet, even beautiful, sometimes inspiring. But something became strikingly apparent. No card could ever adequately capture the meaning and experience of motherhood.
From the moment of conception, the blood and bones of a mother’s body will build the blood, bones, heart, brain, and body of another life. When that soul emerges from her womb, he or she will look for her, knowing her smell, her voice, her heartbeat.
That mother will carry the cells of that infant in her body for, perhaps, the rest of her life, the living witness of a connection she cannot deny – as if part of her own heart is walking around outside of her.
But her motherhood involves far more than giving birth. This offspring will not independently trot off in a few hours, like other mammals. For nearly two decades, she will help this unbelievably dependent human being to survive, develop, and become.
This is no light thing. It’s no wonder it is hard to figure out how to talk about. It is, unquestioningly, the greatest power in the world – to create and enable another life. And it is also unquestioningly, an unparalleled commitment to sacrifice and devote one’s self to another.
That may be part of why we are experiencing a crisis in childbearing – with the U.S. at an all-time low fertility rate. In many ways, given the current culture, it is understandable. The choice to have children has become almost agonizing. Economic concerns, housing costs, increasing pressures on parents to do more and more to ensure children will be successful, and the sense of doing it all alone in our less tight-knit communities all play a role in the fertility crisis.
But more than any of this, there is a fear that having children will be a transition of loss – loss of freedom, loss of identity, loss of economic independence, loss of career opportunities. Derek Thompson of The Atlantic was first to coin the term “workism” – a description of the importance Americans place on work as a fundamental source of meaning and identity – rather than only something you do to provide. In the current culture, making the decision to have children can feel to women, in particular, like deciding to give up your identity, your development, your capacity.
I (Emily) spent my twenties pursuing graduate education and building an exciting career. Those years were full of rewarding work, travel, great food, and incredible people. The idea of having kids felt daunting to me. The surrounding culture echoed that sentiment: “You’re young, you have time.”
Success was measured in career milestones, not in family relationships. The people celebrated on magazine covers or headlining keynote events weren’t lauded for being great mothers or fathers, but for their professional achievements. That message doesn’t go unnoticed—especially by young women.
Still, my father’s words of caution stayed with me. He had grown up in the railroad towns of Northern California, confident he didn’t want to get married or have kids. But he changed course, married in his late thirties, and had me. Later in life, he confessed that his greatest regret was not starting a family earlier and having more children. That stuck with me—if someone so sure he didn’t want kids could grow to regret that decision, maybe I should learn from his experience.
At 33, my husband and I had our first child. The newborn phase was hard — grueling, really. The stress, the sleeplessness, the feeding issues — it was overwhelming. Any casual observer — or even a skilled academic — might have assumed I was miserable. In those moments, I didn’t have the freedom to go out to dinner, binge my favorite show, hit the gym, spend time with friends, or work late on an interesting project. And yet, for the first time in my life, I felt something I had never experienced so powerfully: meaning.
It was the great paradox. I had given up things. I had lost some things. And yet, somehow in the midst of the “giving up,” I had found a level of connection, purpose, and meaning I had never known. It filled me.
I realize now my story is far from unique. Recently, the Wheatley Institute and Institute for Family Studies surveyed 3,000 women across the United States, hoping to get a better picture of what is going on with women – and mothers, in particular. Given the current cultural narrative, one would never expect what emerged – though it is consistent with other findings.
Yes, mothers of children at home reported being more overwhelmed and exhausted at the end of the day than women without children. They were also more likely to say they wished they had more time for themselves, and to report that they often sacrificed their own needs and desires to benefit someone else.
Yet in the middle of the exhaustion and sacrifice, married mothers with children were nearly twice as likely than other women to say they were “very happy.” They were also significantly more likely to say that life was enjoyable most or all of the time. A forthcoming report will dive more deeply into the reasons, but a brief look at why showed that mothers with children are much more likely to say that what they are doing is valuable and worthwhile, and that their lives have a clear sense of meaning and purpose.
Importantly, marriage shapes and magnifies the experience of motherhood. Unmarried mothers with children in the study still identified more purpose and meaning than childless women, but they were less happy, more stressed, and lonely than married women. Marriage seems to lift the burdens of motherhood, while strengthening the experience of happiness, purpose and meaning in nurturing life.
These findings should not surprise us. If there is anything our culture of isolation, diminished mental health and loneliness has taught us, it is that we are designed for deep connection. I (Jenet) recently sat beside a new mother as her infant, just 6 weeks old, was still struggling to breast and bottle feed. His utter dependence struck me. In the midst of this baby’s discomfort, he opened his eyes and gazed directly into his mother’s face, locking his eyes on hers. It was clear that he recognized her. She was his entire world. For a second, his mouth broke into a smile and I watched her exhaustion give way to radiance.
How could any of us measure what it means to the expansion of our own purpose, meaning and identity, to bring another life into being and to be another’s entire world? How could we measure the privilege of knowing and witnessing so intimately the soul of another, and making possible their existence and thriving? In doing so, we enter eternity, becoming part of the past and the future forever.
It’s no wonder marriage and motherhood are powerful catalysts of happiness and purpose. That’s not a message we often hear, but it is real. Mother’s Day gives us the opportunity to honor and express gratitude to the women who gave us life and nurtured our development. But it also gives us the opportunity to honor the privilege of experiencing the greatest power on earth — creation, nurturing, and growth — for those we love, and in ourselves.