We Need to be More Honest About What Motherhood is Really Like

I should’ve been in a good mood. I’d spent a sunny, winter afternoon curled up on a couch with a group of vibrant women, their babies, and bottomless coffee. Our monthly podcast club meeting was the picture of maternity leave perfection—and yet, when someone asked me on the way out how I was doing, I burst into tears.

“I’m so bored,” I admitted.

Boredom wasn’t something I’d expected to feel after my son was born. Neither was rage, loneliness, jealousy or shock. Everything was unfamiliar. My life was a series of nondescript days with an unhealthy amount of Instagram scrolling.

My relationship felt distant and filled with resentment. My personality: “You’re so negative now”. My body was sore, leaking and not my own.

All of that was combined with an immense amount of guilt. Why didn’t I like this more? This is what I hoped for and what some women want but can’t have. With so much privilege—financial, racial and otherwise—a healthy, thriving child, and an awareness of how much actual pain and suffering exists in the world, why couldn’t I just be happy?

Why motherhood feels so isolating

Hard as I try, many of those feelings haven’t gone away. Four years and another kid later, they still exist. I’m exhausted by the energy required to run a household, nourish a partnership, raise two young kids and work full-time—and feelings of failure abound. I often feel as though I’m failing my friendships, failing to achieve at work, and failing myself by not becoming the woman I’d envisioned. And there’s shame around my inability to enjoy this as much as others seem to.

I’ve come to realize that I’m not alone in these feelings, they just aren’t often said aloud.

The prenatal classes don’t prepare you for these realities. They’re too focused on diapering, swaddling and temperature-taking, things that Google could teach anyone, instantly. Friends don’t want to dampen the excitement of a pregnancy announcement or they worry that their not-so-sunny feelings won't stay private, so raw honesty is often shelved.

Most of all, I suspect there’s a worry about voicing these feelings for fear of being labelled a bad mom, an angry mom or an ungrateful mom. For fear of being asked, “Why did you have kids if this isn’t what you wanted?”

The Mom struggle is real—and universal

The author, second from left, on The Social's Momlife Crisis

The tides seem to be turning, as far as this conversation goes. Oprah’s recent special focused on the mental load of motherhood. The film Nightbitch, all about motherhood’s profound impact on identity, was one of the most buzzed-about films at the Toronto International Film Festival.

Donna Kelce (mom to the NFL's Travis and Jason) admitted that being a mom is probably the hardest thing she’s ever done. Even the woman who has re-written pregnancy fashion, Rihanna, admits that she doesn’t “feel close” to herself again after having kids.

Perhaps most importantly, U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy recently issued an Advisory on the Mental Health and Wellbeing of Parents, calling parental stress a “serious public health concern” and bringing to light the feelings of overwhelm that so many parents experience daily. This is thanks to stressors old (money, safety, exhaustion) and new (screens, rising culture of comparison, lack of a village). Murthy also highlights the added support that parents “who have been marginalized due to race, ethnicity, socioeconomic status” and other factors, should be provided.

While that advisory may change policy, I hope that it also changes conversation, inspiring parents to speak more openly about their true feelings, and motivating others to offer support to parents who are struggling rather than dismissing their complaints as a parenting rite of passage.

“One day you’ll look back and miss these days!” doesn’t help when you’re struggling.

Among Murthy’s suggested remedies is the creation of more spaces where parents can speak openly about the stress they’re under, to reduce the shame and guilt so many of us experience. I can tell you firsthand that his suggestion is, indeed, helpful. 

I recently produced and hosted a digital series for The Social called Momlife Crisis where a group of Canadian women speak openly and honestly about the challenges of modern-day motherhood that often go unspoken. (Think group therapy for moms but with no therapist and lots of cameras!)

We discuss motherhood’s impact on our careers, identities, relationships and bodies. We speak openly about our rage, our pain, our burnout and the pendulum swing of both loving and loathing our kids.

There is humour and pain. But mostly there is a refreshing level of honesty that left me feeling far less alone.

Say it: Motherhood is hard

A few months ago, I had a challenging morning at home. Exhausted and in a rush, I’d yelled at my two kids in a way that I wasn’t proud of and left the house feeling like I’d failed, already thinking about the repair I’d have to do in the evening to make amends. 

On the train ride to work, I struck up a conversation with a woman I didn’t know. She revealed that having a child has been the hardest thing she’s ever done—and she feels terrible about admitting that.

It was a small exchange, but a meaningful one. It was a reminder that despite what social media and well-intentioned friends and family tell us about how beautiful this time is (and it certainly can be) it’s also really hard. If we can all be a bit more real about that in the conversations we have and the stories we share, we’ll be far better off—as will the next generation of moms, following in our footsteps.