What I Needed More Than Motherhood

Talk to any working parent and you’re likely to hear a similar story: They don’t feel like they are ever giving enough to their job nor their family. That double whammy of guilt is something disproportionately felt by women, a pressure they and society have been unfairly hurling at them for decades. But we are here to shatter that old trope.

For one, we are two moms who have found a creative passion project that fills our cups in between all our parenting duties. Plus, we share a story from a former stay-at-home mom who feels more fulfilled than ever by a new career. And we talk to a therapist who says to put a lid on the mom guilt once and for all. While it’s certainly all easier said than done, we feel inspired and empowered. Like one brilliant woman says below: “The birth of a baby is visible. The birth of a mother is quieter, but it’s just as profound. And like any birth, it deserves time, compassion, and the freedom to unfold without expecting perfection.”

PS: Speaking of work-life balance, Folly will be off next week for summer break. The next newsletter will hit your inboxes on August 18. Hope you, too, can enjoy some sun and fun (aka peace and quiet).

By Jen Pauliukonis

I thought I would love being a stay-at-home mom. I envisioned lullabies, home-cooked meals, art projects, and domestic accomplishments. What I found was isolation, unexpected anxiety, and—dare I say—boredom. I only saw failure: every unwashed dish, every pile of dirty laundry, every unfinished task. I took normal baby cries and minor ailments as evidence of being a bad mother, or at least an incompetent one. 

Neither of my boys took to bottles, so my body was almost their sole source of nourishment. This turned into an almost total dependence on me in their first year. What was once a source of joy became a source of overwhelming suffocation and exhaustion. A stroll through Target alone was a triumph, quickly followed by guilt of ingratitude at having such beautiful babies and the opportunity to be home with them. I knew it was a privilege to quit my job and focus on these boys.

And this was all contradictory to the moments of immense joy that I also felt during these years. I loved their little baby bodies and their little baby smell and little baby snuggles. I can remember holding my two sons all day and night and feeling absolute bliss and surprise that we could be so happy. There was neverending tension between the gratitude at being with my kids and the feeling that I had lost myself. 

Maybe part of the problem was that I was young and didn’t know myself all that well, so I didn’t know what to value and celebrate yet. It was a horrific tragedy that started me down a wholly different path: the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. To be perfectly clear, I had no direct connection to the school or the shooting. I did not lose any loved ones. But seeing the tragedy and its aftermath play out in the news shook me to my core—it created a new sense of purpose to protect my own family and community.

Here is how, despite all odds, I get a good night’s sleep

Somewhere along the way, parents were told we could “have it all,” which is, of course, laughable. But I’m a firm believer that we can’t even come close if we’re operating without sleep. Sleep deprivation with children is inevitable, but my husband and I value rest so deeply that we try to throw everything at the wall. We’re talking multisensory comfort. Some nights are interrupted by our son, or our cats, or both. In between the cries and meows, we’ve fostered a pretty cozy environment to try and achieve the best sleep scores possible. —Jess Mayhugh

Therapist and maternal mental health specialist Erin Schlozman says we gotta get rid of mom guilt

Society places so many expectations on mothers that we’ve coined the term “mom guilt” (cute, right?) to describe the awful feelings of inadequacy and shame we feel when we can’t live up to the unrealistic standards of parenting. It’s constant, it’s exhausting, and it’s not making us the best versions of ourselves for anyone else, but more importantly, for ourselves. We talk to Erin Schlozman, therapist and author of The Myth of the Perfect Mom, about different aspects of mom guilt and the mental load of simply being a woman. —Lauren Bell Martin

How and when does mom guilt show up?
What I usually tell my mom clients in therapy is that mom guilt doesn’t usually show up because you’re doing something wrong. It shows up because you care. The problem is that we often mistake guilt for evidence that we’re failing, when really it’s often evidence that we’re invested. For many moms, guilt starts almost immediately. It can be about breastfeeding, going back to work, staying home, enjoying time away from your baby, losing your patience, or wanting a break.

As our children grow, the guilt evolves right alongside us. Suddenly it’s about screen time, birthday parties, extracurriculars, sibling dynamics, and on and on. The question I encourage moms to ask isn’t, “How do I get rid of guilt?” It’s, “Is this guilt actually pointing to one of my values, or is it pointing to someone else’s expectations?” Those are two very different things. Sometimes guilt is useful; it tells us we’ve acted outside our values. However, much of mom guilt stems from impossible cultural standards that no one could actually meet, and that insight is usually very valuable for moms.

There is a lot of worry with millennial moms about breaking the cycle of how they were parented. How do you deal with those feelings?
The irony of cycle-breaking is that this fear is often strongest in the parents who are least likely to repeat harmful patterns. The fact that you’re reflecting, apologizing, learning, and asking these questions already makes your parenting fundamentally different. Breaking cycles isn’t about becoming a perfect parent. It’s about becoming a repair parent. Every parent gets it wrong sometimes. The research has never suggested children need flawless parents. They need caregivers who are responsive enough and willing to repair mistakes when they happen. Our children don’t need a childhood without rupture. They need a childhood where they learn that relationships can survive rupture through honesty, accountability, and connection. That’s a much more realistic—and healthier—goal.

Why does the mental load of seem so different for mothers than other parents?
To me, the mental load isn’t just doing the tasks. It’s being the person who remembers the tasks that exist, the person the kids run to first when they need something, and the partner who can tell you what is happening after school on Thursday. It’s remembering the pediatrician appointment, noticing you’re almost out of toothpaste, signing the permission slip, buying the birthday gift, scheduling childcare, managing emotional needs, and feeling like you must constantly plan three steps ahead. It’s invisible labor, which makes it particularly exhausting because it’s so often unseen. But that doesn’t mean women need to carry it alone. The truth, for me, is that in a family, things have to get done; the administrative work of a family exists whether we want it to or not. So the question becomes: how do we make this equitable in our system?

While this is changing in many families, mothers are still disproportionately expected to be the household project manager. Even in homes where responsibilities are divided fairly, women often carry the cognitive responsibility of keeping everything running. One thing I tell moms is that you can’t “self-care” your way out of structural problems. Bubble baths don’t solve unequal mental labor. Sometimes what needs to change isn’t your resilience, it’s the system inside your home. Naming the invisible work is often the first step toward redistributing it. Moms shouldn’t be the only ones with color-coded calendars.

How do we deal with the inevitable comparisons brought on by social media?Social media has quietly changed the job description of motherhood. It used to be enough to care for your children. Now many moms feel like they also have to curate childhood. Every lunchbox, birthday party, family photo, playroom, and holiday becomes something to optimize or perform. Comparison isn’t a character flaw—it’s a human brain doing what human brains do. The problem is that we’re comparing our real lives to someone else’s edited highlights.

Personally, I’ve never had much of an issue with this—I think in part because social media is part of my job, so I view it that way. One practice I recommend for moms is asking themselves, “Who benefits from me believing I’m not enough?” Often the answer isn’t your child. It’s often an algorithm or an industry selling you something. Our kids aren’t measuring our motherhood by our Instagram feed. They’re measuring it by how safe they feel with us, whether we delight in them, and whether we’re emotionally available. Those things rarely photograph well, but they’re what matter most.

I really like how you say motherhood is about the birth of the mother as well as the baby. What are some ways to embrace this rebirth?
One of the biggest myths I push back against is the idea that after having a baby, your job is to “get back to yourself.” I don’t actually think that’s possible—or even desirable. Motherhood changes us. It changes our priorities, our relationships, our bodies, our brains, and our identities. Rather than trying to recover the person you were before, I encourage mothers to become curious about the person they’re becoming. That might mean rediscovering old parts of yourself that still fit. It might mean letting go of versions of yourself that no longer do. It might mean trying something entirely new.

Coming back to yourself isn’t about recreating your pre-baby life. It’s about creating a life where you exist as a whole person—not just someone’s mother. Protecting small pieces of your identity, nurturing meaningful friendships, pursuing interests that belong only to you, and allowing yourself to evolve without guilt are all part of that process. The birth of a baby is visible. The birth of a mother is quieter, but it’s just as profound. And like any birth, it deserves time, compassion, and the freedom to unfold without expecting perfection.

“My daughter is in a stage of wanting every toy to go to bed with her. Tonight, as my husband tried to smuggle a giant rubber duckie out of her room, I chose (out of the kindness of my heart) to step in and help him. Unfortunately, I tripped on her rug and dropped the duck right in front of her in the process—leading to a full-on Sunday night meltdown.” —LBM

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