Does America Dislike Children, Family or Mothers; or is There a Misunderstanding?

A few years ago, I found myself in a heated debate with a friend who was pregnant with her first child. She was also a social media influencer and wanted me to come on her podcast and talk about how I “didn’t lose myself after I became a mother.”

She planned to keep working and was adamant that she would not “lose herself” after having a baby. She wanted to preserve the life she had built and allow her daughter to fall into place.

I was not arguing that she should quit her job, abandon her friendships or trade every hobby for monogrammed burp cloths. I was questioning whether the goal of motherhood should be to remain unchanged.

A baby does not erase a woman. But a baby will change her.

For me, motherhood has meant becoming a more expanded version of myself. I am more aware, more intuitive and strangely more productive. I can complete an irrational number of tasks while holding a child and reheating the same cup of coffee for the third time.

I am also much more exhausted in every possible way.

A 2020 meta-synthesis of 36 studies found that new mothers wanted help adapting to a changed identity, rebuilding their confidence, adjusting their relationships and finding a “new normal.” They were not simply recovering from childbirth. They were becoming mothers.

That matters as the Lindsay Clancy case has pulled postpartum mental health into a national conversation. Her attorneys have argued that postpartum psychosis left her without criminal responsibility for killing her three children. Prosecutors have acknowledged mental illness but contended that she understood her actions.

Postpartum psychosis is real, rare and medically distinct from depression, anxiety or the normal emotional upheaval that can accompany motherhood. It is a psychiatric emergency. One horrifying case should not become shorthand for millions of postpartum women.

Still, the case exposes a broader problem: We prepare women for what birth may do to their bodies, but say far less about what motherhood may do to their minds, identities, marriages, sleep and sense of competence.

A review of 39 qualitative studies found that women seeking perinatal mental-health care described fragmented services, too much attention on the baby and too little on the mother, and inadequate information about what they were experiencing. They wanted compassionate professionals, continuity of care and a voice in treatment decisions. Some feared that being honest about their thoughts or emotions could lead others to label them bad mothers or even cost them custody.

Meanwhile, recorded diagnoses are rising. Delivery-hospital data show that perinatal mood and anxiety diagnoses increased from 18.4 to 40.4 per 1,000 deliveries between 2006 and 2015. A separate Health Affairs study found a 93.3 percent increase among continuously privately insured women between 2008 and 2020.

Those numbers reflect diagnoses, not necessarily 93 percent more illness. Greater awareness, better screening, broader coverage and a growing willingness to seek help may explain part of the increase. Some women may finally be receiving names and treatment for conditions that earlier generations endured quietly.

But as a working mother of two who works with families, relationships and mental health, I keep coming back to the same question: Why are so many mothers struggling? Is this new? Or are we becoming more aware?

Culture shapes our expectations, our support systems and the stories women tell themselves when motherhood feels harder than expected. And I wonder whether we have trapped women between three equally damaging narratives.

The first says, “Having a baby means your life is over. Prepare to grieve your freedom, your body, your career and your former self.”

The second says, “Nothing has to change. Return to work, rebuild your body, maintain every friendship, keep the baby on schedule and bounce back immediately.”

And, there’s a third scenario that says, “Motherhood is full of joy and beauty. Don’t miss a second. The days are long, but the years are short.”

One teaches women to mourn motherhood in advance. The other expects them to move through it without appearing altered. And the last says if you feel anything other than gratitude for this season, something is wrong with you and you may not be doing it right. All of these scenarios make a normal, enormous transformation feel like failure.

The truth is the transition into motherhood is a mixture of many emotions, scenarios and complexities all unique to each family.

And here’s another interesting insight: evidence does not suggest Americans have stopped valuing children. Pew found that 87 percent of parents consider parenthood one of the most important parts of their identity. Yet 62 percent said parenting was harder than expected, and mothers were more likely to describe it as tiring, stressful and heavily judged.

Maybe America does not dislike children. Maybe we value children while undervaluing what it takes to raise them.

And perhaps we especially undervalue the heavy ask motherhood places on women. Not because fathers do not matter or because they are not also changed by parenthood, but because pregnancy, birth, postpartum recovery and, often, the mental and logistical work of caregiving ask something particular of mothers.

Women need more than praise for “doing it all.” They need the grace, flexibility and freedom to decide what matters most in the season they are living. They need permission to put first things first, even when doing so requires a hard reset.

Recently, a dear friend stepped away from her job so she could devote more attention to her children and family. Many people applauded her decision. But just as many quietly wondered what was “really” going on.

There had to be more to the story, right? But what if there wasn’t?

What if she simply recognized that her priorities were out of alignment? What if the pace she had maintained was no longer healthy for her or her family? What if stepping away was not evidence of a breakdown, a scandal or a professional failure, but evidence that she was paying attention?

We tell women they can do anything, and I believe they can. But somewhere along the way, that encouragement became an expectation that they should do everything, all at once, without needing to change course.

Then, when a woman finally says, “This is too much,” we wonder what is wrong with her.

Maybe nothing is wrong with her. Maybe she is a human being honestly naming what she needs.

Putting first things first will not look the same for every mother. For one woman, it may mean leaving a job. For another, it may mean returning to work because that work strengthens her. And some moms simply don’t have a choice. It may mean asking a spouse to carry more, seeking treatment, changing childcare, lowering expectations or admitting that the current arrangement is no longer working.

The better message before birth is not, “You will lose yourself.” It is also not, “You can stay exactly the same.”

It is this: You will still be you, and you will become someone new. You should have the freedom to let that transformation reorder your life without being treated as though you have failed.

Motherhood is not disappearance. It is becoming.

And no woman should be expected to do that becoming alone, unsupported or under suspicion.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org