Invisible Penalties of Motherhood
Society wraps motherhood in a shiny bow. It's “the most beautiful journey.” It's “selfless love.” It's “a woman’s greatest joy.” From greeting cards to Instagram posts, motherhood is painted as a sacred, glowing experience. And if you're not glowing with gratitude 24/7, people wonder what’s wrong with YOU. The reality is messier. It’s beautiful sometimes, yes. But it’s also brutal. It strips you down and builds you into someone you don’t always recognize. It demands everything, all the time. It changes your body, hijacks your hormones, rewires your brain, and no one stops to ask how YOU are doing. Because once you become a mother, the world shifts its gaze. It focuses on the child. On the home. On the family. And somehow, the mother, the very person holding it all together becomes invisible.
Motherhood can be exhausting! It’s thankless. It’s relentless. It’s giving and giving until you’re not sure there’s anything left of you. It’s nights without sleep, days without pause, and years without a break. It’s being expected to hold everything together while you feel like you're falling apart. It’s love, yes! And, loss. Loss of time, space, ambition, energy, and sometimes identity. What’s worse is suffering in isolation. When you are falling apart, you're told to count your blessings. When you ask for help, you're met with judgment or silence. You’re expected to be strong, but not too strong. Soft, but never vulnerable. Present, but never needy. Because the world keeps up the performance of “perfect moms,” real mothers suffer in silence. You're told you should be grateful. You're told it's your calling. So, when you feel overwhelmed, depressed, or just plain tired, you keep it to yourself. You smile through the burnout. You post the baby pictures. Meanwhile, inside, you're drowning. And the isolation deepens, because no one talks about the real cost.
No one tells you how motherhood impacts your career, your income, your health. That your ambitions might be sidelined. That the wage gap will grow. That you're now the default parent, even if you’re working full time. That you’ll feel guilty for every moment you’re not available. You are expected to do it all, flawlessly, and without complaint.
And life goes on. The baby gets the checkups. The family gets the attention. The home gets managed. But the mother? She disappears into the background. Her health, her mental state, her dreams are off the center stage. Society assumes she’ll just figure it out. She always has, right?